Braving the Arirang...

Since when do we pick and choose the definition of "freedom"?

2010-08-16T14:55:00.000-05:00

"Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances."

That is the first amendment. Freedom of speech and respecting an establishment of religion...The government shall not prohibit the free exercise of religion. Shall NOT.

So why all of a sudden have we forgotten what it is to be an American? Why do we pick and choose? I know, I know - we're all guilty of it in some way. I know that I am. But this is serious, people. Our forefathers came to this country as immigrants, fleeing religious persecution in their own countries and trying to seek refuge in a land where they could worship peaceably the way they wanted to. Our very soil was given breath from the fruits of religious freedom and here we are, standing here in hypocritical glory, trying to persecute those who are seeking a place to worship their beliefs.

Do you not all see the irony in this? Do you not see how angering this is? We have thousands of thousands of soldiers overseas - fighting and representing our country and for what it's worth, fighting to protect and defend our civil liberties and our FREEDOMS as Americans. And one of those freedoms is religion and speech. Yet we condemn anything that is not familiar, and we walk around blaming others and pointing fingers and casting stones towards those we claim are insensitive. But who really is being insensitive here?

It's so frustrating and upsetting to see this country for all that it is today. It is frightening to know that one day I may have children who will grow up in a world where 'tolerance' and 'freedom' are words that are just words tagged with meanings that no one seems to honor anymore.

This does NOT make me want to visit Detroit, and I have family there!

2010-08-03T15:56:00.000-05:00

Oh man, just caught this over at Angry Asian Man. Cannot believe this is an actual commercial for my "adopted" hometown of Detroit... or can I?

Who was in charge of this campaign idea?! Ha! Apparently it has been running in airports...which makes me wonder how I missed out on this little beauty during my trips to the DTW...

As if the city of Detroit needed any further of a beating to its reputation, these commercials need to be filed in the "CEASED AND DESIST" folder, covered in some extraneous Gulf oil and burned - immediately. Not only does Detroit have to fight the rumors of its poverty (which are true as my eye has seen) but now it has to deal with "self-proclaimed" racist tourist commercials?!

Poor Detroit. I'll still come back to you. I know you've got some bomb ass sushi places tucked away in Lansing.

Saw this lady at Artscape this year and fell in love...

2010-08-03T12:00:00.000-05:00

being the total nerd that I am, I absolutely fell in love with these tea towels!

You can find more of her stuff here.

I am a total science geek nowadays so these tea towels totally caught my attention among all the little shops and kiosks they had going on at Artscape this year. I took a ton more pictures though and hopefully when I get home tonight I'll be able to post them all for you. It was my little sister, Hannie's first time to the festival and she had a total blast (as I promised her she would!)

I loved Inception but this is too funny not to share...

2010-08-02T14:29:00.000-05:00

CONTRACEPTION: The Bath Boys Comedy

95 Southbound Traffic and Financial Independence

2010-07-21T14:28:00.000-05:00

So I started my new job in Laurel this past two weeks and it's great. I really enjoy it - a lot of the aspects of previous jobs that I loved are the main aspects of this job now. Mainly, talking to people and scheduling things, making sure things are in order and of course, inventory.

It's funny now that I think about it - every single job that I have ever held - whether it was working in Nordstrom's as a saleswoman (or more appropriately, girl), shaving Hawaiian shaved ice in a house in the middle of Timonium, a top commercial construction administrator for a local bank (and virtually sinking ship that I was lucky enough to jump off of before it began its dive into the financial deep end) or as a claims representative/specialist...I have ultimately always been "stuck" (for lack of a better word) with being the same person you'd come to request your 0.2 ball point pens from Uniball. Oh, and what was that? You wanted to make sure it was GEL ink because you like how smooth it glides across those sticky notes as opposed to the generic ink pens they have boxes and boxes of still unopened in inventory? Okay, yes, I'll make sure to buy the sticky notes with alternating sides of "stickyness" before you have a HEART ATTACK and die because the sticky notes don't fit into your AWESOME BLUE-COLORED DISPENSER.

Call me weird or maybe according to Disgrasian, I am just owning up to my Asian-ness but I really love doing the inventory purchases.

I love the thrill of the chase. A dozen pens for $12.99? I bet I can find the same ones for HALF of that through some quick keyword searching on the office supply website. Ohhhh yeah. You know it's a turn on when a woman can find not one carton but TWO cartons of copy paper for $24.99 each. Boo yah, bitches. Doncha wish your girlfriend was HAWT like ME?

The only new adjustments that I have made with this new job is actually having a purpose to waking up so God forsakenly early. Before I was waking up at 3 or 4 AM and aimlessly flipping through my external hard drive to find a movie that I hadn't seen at least a dozen times to try to lull me back to sleep for another hour before I needed to head out to the gym. Now - I legitimately can wake up at 3 or 4 and head to the gym, get a nice hour workout in and then take a shower and head into the wonders that await me on southbound 95.

Perhaps it is because I started this job in mid-summer, but the traffic southbound hasn't been as horrendous as I expected that it might be. It has actually been quite pleasantly - save for an occasional stop-and-go here and there. I think for me the worst part is trying to get HOME. 95 north headed back to Baltimore from Laurel, if you're not out on the road at 4:30 pm on the dot is suicidal. And when I say suicidal I mean me banging my head against the steering wheel hoping to cause permanent hemmorage to my frontal lobe so that it may ease the HORRIBLE EXCRUTIATING PAIN that is the moving parking lot of 95 north. UGH!!

I have also been trying really hard to get back on the financial bandwagon. Not that I had fallen off completely, but you know - losing two jobs within a two year span is not the best thing in the world. Not something that I would wish even on my worst enemy (okay... who I kidding... I would, I would.) And it took me a year and some change to get financially stable with the job before last... and then I got laid off. And then I found a new job that gave me a significant pay cut, no benefits but the work hours of a work horse. No fun. And now I am at this job with awesome benefits, working my way hopefully to a brighter future. It's going to take some time but I've got patience even though sometimes it may not feel like it to myself. I just have to remember the bigger picture and realize that all the suffering today is worth tomorrow's win.

Racism is as racism does.

2010-07-18T09:15:00.000-05:00

This is totally off the kilt of what I have been writing about as of late but I am sooo enraged right now by this "parody" letter that I read written by Tea ~~Party~~ bagger, Mark Williams. So enraged that I dropped him a little line on his website... he states that he enjoys reading what his listeners have to say so I figured I'd humor him just this once. Below is my submission:

Mr. "Mark Talk" or whoever the hell you think you are- You may think that because you are part of this "Tea Party" movement that you have some political entitlement to spew whatever comes out of your brain. But after just reading your "parody letter" written supposedly from the NAACP to the late President Lincoln, I am beginning to think that whatever thoughts you disperse with your "political entitlement" (And believe I use those terms with such enraged scoff) not only does NOT come from your brain, but more specifically comes from your ANUS. (Oh I am sorry, should my "coloredness" only allow me to use crude terms like ASSHOLE?) And by the looks of it, though I am sure that you would never publicly rebuke yourself, it seems that you have removed your letter from your site. Is it because you realized what a douche bag you really are? Or that the one line that your Tea-bagging ass shouldn't have crossed was calling the NAACP "racist"? Whatever the reason that caused you to remove your ridiculous letter from your site, I hope for humanity's sake that it's a strong enough reason for you to keep your thoughts to yourself for the rest of your life.

To read Mr. Mark "the Talk" Williams' letter, check out the link for Disgrasian's blog here.

Sexy is that little black dress that fits like a glove

2010-06-17T21:17:00.000-05:00

I decided to leave work earlier than usual today and soooo glad I did!!! Guess what was waiting for me when I got home?!?!?!

My birthday dress!! Which coincidentally makes me feel so incredibly sexy once its against my skin that I am going to have a hard time waiting till August to wear it and am already on the hunt for the perfect boots for this outfit.

And while I am shoe shopping online -- I don't mind if I do just keep the dress on and take a few pics ... =) =)

Happy Early Birthday to me!

2010-06-16T11:37:00.002-05:00

So I have been REALLY M.I.A. from this blog as of recently. It's been pretty crazy - lots of parties, lots of fun stuff going on, lots of just doing absolutely nothing when I get home from work. Hehehe.

On the real though, I have been on the up and up of attempting to get back into blog writing - especially since so much is happening in my life that sometimes I feel like I might lose all the details if I don't write them all down. I feel like I am growing way more sophisticated in my thoughts and feelings towards everything in my life - FINALLY. A huge step for me - it's always been so easy for me to get so wrapped up into things in the moment that I lose sight of really whats in front of me.

I keep promising to post photos on here. I have slowly been testing my photo legs in the shallow end of the photography pool. I am not NEARLY as talented or have "the eye" as some of my dear friends are but I can appreciate beauty and simplistic serenity - no matter where I am - so I try to capture those moments.

Anyways - onto the title of this blog post...as it is to be seen by anyone who knows me, I have grown a huge fondness for fashion. I love all things asymmetrical, modern, clean and sharp. But then on a whole other spectrum I absolutely adore frill, lace, abstract and floral prints, bright colors. I try to mix and match as much as I can and find a few key pieces that I fall in love with and can't get anywhere else.

So it came to my HUGE surprise when my fave fashion blogger, Fashiontoast, aka Rumi Neely, designed her very own dress for RVCA. She says on her blog that she tapped into her Milla Jovovich circa The Fifth Element for the design of the dress and I absolutely adored it on the spot so much that I had to grab one for myself. =) Happy early Birthday to me!!! It'll probably be too hot to wear it in August but who cares -- I'll still wear it anyway.

Rumi's dress

The Fifth Element

I got the dress in black because I don't really look good in all white like that. Now all that's left is finding the perfect shoe....I was thinking a Doc Marten boot in a patent leather to bring out the modern/90's feel of the dress. Or to take it up a notch, something like those Jeffrey Campbell's that I absolutely adore. =)

Exam Week and Car Troubles

2010-05-03T01:21:00.000-05:00

Sooo exam #3 week is fast approaching and it's building this inevitable anxiety up inside of me that I just can't shake. Thus why I am up at 2 am in the morning thinking about HW, A & P lab notes and whether or not I'll be ready for exam #3 coming up in the next week and a half.

To make matters even more difficult, my car started making a sad and unusual buzzing noise. Well, at least in its modest beginnings the noise began as a "buzz" and soon escalated (rather quickly I might add) to a grinding sound. The kind of annoying, boisterous sound you'd hear on a douchebag's car that wanted you to hear him coming 50 miles away. Yeah...that sound.

I had J take a look at it today and he thinks it might be the water pump (?). I put that question mark there not because I question his judgment. On the contrary, I have the utmost faith that even his assumption based on just viewing what was underneath my hood is quite accurate. That question mark was for the fact that I had not even a clue that I even had a water pump underneath the hood of my car. Haha. Oh go me!

J advised that it was NOT the smartest thing in the world for me to be riding my vehicle around and that as soon as possible (Read: TOMORROW, ermm... TODAY, I mean) I need to take it into the shop to get it officially diagnosed and repaired. Note the word: need. As in necessity. As in drop everything I was going to do and make sure that I am able to have the transportation to even ACCOMPLISH the things I need to get done.

Thus, it goes without saying, it put a HUGE damper on my weekend events. I was supposed to be going to Kish's Bachelorette Party on Saturday, but that's when the noise really started to escalate. That afternoon it went from a slight annoying buzzing sound that became louder when I accelerated to a loud cranky grinding noise that occurs every single time I turn the ignition. Great, I thought. I had this horrible vision in my head that my car was going to blow up at any second...and when I approached J, he advised me to stay off the roads. Which totally bummed me out in more ways than one.

I also never got to go to the grocery store nor to pick up my photo prints for class. I never got to return that sweater that I bought at Anthropologie (seen as a dire necessity at the time that the fabric met my skin and I stared in the mirror but slowly lost its rung on the priority ladder when I came home and looked at the stark reminder of how much I actually paid for it on that little sub-conscious meter we call a RECEIPT) nor did I get a chance to return that one thing from Burlington Coat Factory that I had picked up for my Mom that she had decided she didn't want after all.

The good thing out of this weekend was an impromptu hang out on Saturday morning/early afternoon to the pool to enjoy the nice weather and catch some sun and ALSO to be saved by the day from the Russian who most notably looked up online about my Toyota warranty and showed me that my engine warranty was still valid until 56,000 miles! (I am currently at 39,000.) That's a whole whopping $600 I am saving that I had nightmares about all last night and this morning about having to pay!

Here we enter into another week and even though I wanted so desperately to get into work early today, I know that's probably not going to be possible seeing as I have this car thing to take care of. And I know it's rather serious enough that I cannot just be meandering along with getting the repair done (as I am so often the culprit of doing so when it comes to getting my oil changed).

At least the weather will be nice out.

Torry Hansen: Worst F&*%ing Mother of the Year (& my hope that this means stricter screenings for prospective adoptive parents)

2010-04-14T13:04:00.000-05:00

Of course I'd have something to say about this.

Am I outraged? Hell yes. Am I pissed off? Effin' yeah I am pissed off. Do I want to write massive amounts of hate mail to Torry Hansen? Do I ever....

This story is just devastatingly maddening, sad, and utterly effing ridiculous - down to each minute detail and play-by-play of this horrible monstrosity of a situation. From a 7-year old boy spending 6 months in a NEW country with a NEW language and a NEW mother, the failure of the adoption agency that facilitated the adoption to properly screen their prospective families, the idiocy of the agency to allow this little boy to enter the United States into this family's home, the idiocy of the ADOPTIVE parent(s) to fully educate themselves on what they were getting themselves into prior to having the child brought into their home...Not to mention the fact that this poor little 7-year old boy now has to deal with the effects of being abandoned not once, but TWICE??

I have read a lot of articles about this in the past week or so that the story broke. Have I read them ALL? To be honest, no, I haven't. But the majority of the articles that I have read state the same thing - the effects that this one grandmother's ludicrous actions now have on the rest of the prospective parents waiting for their Russian adopted children and also the fate of the many Russian orphans waiting to be adopted in the orphanages currently. CNN has also expressed many people's displeasure (among them mostly the Russian people) at the fact that this Ms. Hansen (the grandmother of Torry Hansen) will NOT be punished for her inhumane deed.

Let me just tell you what I think... First of all, I think there is foul play afoot with this grandmother business being involved altogether. Torry Hansen, let me reason with you for a second, you dumb b*^ch... I am going to make the astute assumption that you're more than of legal age. Obviously, you had some ounce of compassion in your bones to even initiate the adoption process which can be long and arduous, I understand. And you wait for this beautiful, innocent child to come from a world of abandonment and suffering that you might not ever have the capacity to comprehend and things just don't turn out the way you thought they would. But why on earth would you have your MOTHER take care of the "dirty work" for you?!?!!?!?! Are we not a grown woman enough to adopt the child but we can't be "grown" enough to take responsibility for that same child's life???? WTF WOMAN?!?!?!!?!

They haven't released any photos of your mother, this illustrious Ms. Hansen, but I can only imagine that due to your geographical location of Tennessee that she is a spineless fat f&$k that weighs 200 lbs and has missing teeth...basically, an ignorant piece of trash.

I could tell you what I would hope would be the outcome from this outrageous story. But I am afraid to even waste my breath because as sad as this story is, it isn't the first time that something like this has happened. And not just to Russian adoptees but any and ALL international adoptee children.

All I know is that I am googling the sh*t out of this woman Torry Hansen and writing as many letters as I possibly can to any and everyone that will want to listen to try to get her and her grandmother some type of sentence. That child, regardless of his behavior, has been through more tumultuous heartache than anyone will ever know and despite this "shipping him back", he is STILL a US citizen and has RIGHTS that they decided to ignore because "they couldn't handle it anymore".

My question to all of you is...if you have a biological child and they turn out to be psychopaths or violent - can you take them somewhere to have them shoved back into your uterus to "bake" a little longer?

You cannot treat adopted children any different than biological children in that respect. You wanted that child, you now have to deal with the consequences, Torry Hansen. And I hope you go to hell.

happy days are new spring dresses and warm sunshine

2010-04-07T09:19:00.000-05:00

Totally love love LOVE the new dress I found in Target (Targe-t with the silent T!) and am rocking it out today in celebration of the amazing weather.

I have decided that I am going to take more pictures, upload more pictures onto this thing and just stop being so lazy. Because that's all that has been stopping me... sheer laziness.

In other news, will be taking my Psych 101 test this weekend. I had originally planned to take it later in the morning but upon further review, a friend of mine has enticed me to join her to DC to the Cherry Blossom Sakura Matsuri Street Festival...how can I pass that up? Every year that I fear I will miss the Cherry Blossoms, something marvelous springs up unexpected in my events and prompts me to go. (Thanks Ester! =))

Cannot wait to take my new Canon Powershot to the festival this year. Last year my trusty Fujifilm companion took the photos but was on its last leg so a lot of the photos lacked a certain quality to them. I am more than excited to see how the pictures are going to turn out this year!

Hope everyone is enjoying the weather!!

New store full of awesome goodies...

2010-04-06T10:16:00.000-05:00

Just found this new online store full of endless possibilities for a new spring wardrobe...have I mentioned that recently one end of my closet fell off? A visitor to my dwelling informed me that this was a sign that I had TOO MANY CLOTHES.

...which is a travesty that I do not believe could ever be possible!

But in my defense - I have been removing articles of clothing for every new one that I buy. I think it's the best way and not everything fits the same after so many years. And not everything is the same style that you used to have either.

A nice surprise was a dress that I had in the back of my closet that I had bought over four years ago. Never wore it before...EVER but had taken it to the beach with me and J numerous times as a possible "dinner dress" but never knew how to wear it. Suddenly had a fashion revelation the other day before work to pair the dress with a cute white laced tank that I had from B.R. and voila! An acceptable Easter outfit was born!

Here is that website... Bona Drag. I think it is out of California.

http://www.bonadrag.com/shopmain/shopmain.html

=) =) Love life and sunshine!

Earring Prospects for my outfit for the Wedding

2010-03-18T14:42:00.000-05:00

Last weekend when J and I went to Tyson's (to help him find the last few things to complete his suit) I went into this really neat little Japanese-owned jewelry store. The stuff was all pretty reasonably priced but disguised to look like it cost more. I was able to find a couple of cute bracelets that I liked in a yellow that I think matches my shoes for the wedding dress, so I snatched them up! (I'll post a picture of them later!)

But now I am stuck with trying to figure out if I really like the shoes I bought for the wedding and how long I will be able to stand BEING in them for a long period of time (especially since I will be helping before and after the ceremony). I hate that I have to think like this when it comes to shoes. I absolutely love clothes shopping and could go on and on and on...but when it comes to my shoes, I get easily depressed because I am so limited due to the cerebral palsy and the offset in my gait.

I also still need to find a pair of earrings. Yellow, of course, to fit my color scheme, but maybe just a little bit off? I want them to be dressy enough to wear to a wedding, but not too much that I couldn't wear them again. I just found a bunch of Anthropologie's website that I totally adore...what do you think?

Vivid Dreams

2010-03-15T00:51:00.000-05:00

Ever since I can remember, I have always had vivid dreams. Dreams that were so real that I could have sworn that they had happened to me before and when I would mention this to my parents when I was younger and verbally capable of sharing my dreams with them, they would always say it was just a case of "deja vu". But as I have grown older, and my dreams have become more vivid, more sporadic, more radical and life-like, I have been having a hard time accepting that they are all just a part of "deja vu".

Because some of my dreams are of events that I have never experienced in my life, nor do I have any prior experience or knowledge to fall back on that could revert into my dream life. In my dreams I have been a young mother shielding her baby in an active warzone through a seemingly 1960s South Korea; I have been a driver in a vehicle on a drag at high velocity speeds but knowing there was something wrong with my vehicle and not having the capability of stopping it. I have been a lounge singer at a hotel bar, my black dress cascading along the grand piano as I sat next to the piano player, drinking a scotch on the rocks and singing my songs through the clouds of cigar smoke. I am not a singer. I have never been to a hotel bar before (save for the one in the middle of the Hilton in Stockholm) and I don't drink scotch. I don't know where these illusions of a life come from nor where they transform from in my real everyday life.

Last night I had the weirdest dream of all. I was at what seemed to be a college dorm. My college dorm. (I never dormed at college...but I dated plenty of people who did) There was a party that was going on in some kind of main hall or small conference room, I am not sure which and I am not sure that it mattered much. What I distinctly remember is that I was sitting next to my boyfriend, a boy about 20 years old who looked to be Chinese. He had semi-long hair and a soft smile and he seemed very kind. But the food that was at this party was such a wide array of cuisine. I remember distinctly that there was a soup that my boyfriend was encouraging me to try - it was a soup that had some kind of large piece of swine in it. I want to say that it was a huge pig's feet, but I realized that each person's bowl of soup had a totally different portion of the swine in it. It had a wretched smell and I remember being able to smell how terrible it was - something like a sour gym sock mixed with the worst cheese smell you can imagine. I also remember feeling the steam rise up from the pot and brush my face. I remember feeling that warmth against my cheeks. But what is even more disturbing about this dream is what happened next...

As my boyfriend is going down the potluck line (I am guessing it was a potluck line but something tells me that I am not far in my guess) he kept putting more and more random things on my plate. A pastry here, a mashed potato there, rice and some pilaf here. And all of a sudden I felt the ground shake from underneath us. I was suddenly overcome with this sense of fear and wasn't sure why. I looked at him and I saw this grave look wash across his face. And in the next instant, I saw one of the other partygoers rush to the window and open the blinds and in the distance we could see a tornado coming our way. It was so vivid. I could see the graying of the skies, and I could see this massive tunnel of darkness whisping and luring so heavily in the distance, but it was moving faster and faster towards us. I turned to my dream boyfriend and asked him what we should do. He said to get down, to find somewhere safe to hide and something stable to hold onto.

Now this next part makes no logical sense. I remember watching through the window as I ducked underneath this table that was near one of the pillars in the room and saw the looming tornado heading straight towards me. I felt the ground shake and the movement of the building become more ominous and scarier as the tornado moved. I couldn't find my boyfriend at this point ... I could hear his voice and for some reason I knew he'd be safe, and that he had found a separate place to stay.

But so vividly, blog, I can't even stress to you. I saw the tornado RIP the building wall away. I felt the wind tug at me as it tried to pull me with it. I felt the rain that it brought shutter and drench my face and my clothes. I felt the leaves and the branches that it brought in its wake scrape and cut at my skin and my legs as they dangled helplessly against the force of the tornado's power.

And I gripped for my life onto that pillar, praying that it would be over soon and that I'd be safe. And just like that, before I knew it, I woke up.

Weird, huh?

The birds are chirping!!!

2010-03-08T17:02:00.000-05:00

When I got to work this morning, I could hear the birds chirping outside the building and it made me smile. Whenever I feel the sunshine and hear birds chirping in the early morning it reminds me of when I was a little kid, waking up early every morning once spring started to inch its way past winter's remaining snow piles.

This is the beginning of spring and I cannot wait for it to begin! Day trips to go shopping in Georgetown or Tysons Corner. Trips to the Smithsonian for museum-hopping.

But I know that this means first, we must get through the "showers" part of the spring. And boy have I heard that we'll be getting our share of rain!! Hopefully it won't affect me too much - usually rain makes me super sleepy. =/

Something refreshing!

2010-03-08T13:00:00.000-05:00

This is an amazing organization run by the Moore family. Dr. Andrew Moore, his mother and two of his brothers are continuing the tradition that his father set so many years before: to provide the community with quality healthcare.

Developed for the "working poor", Surgery on Sunday has helped over 1,500 patients and offers free healthcare and surgical procedures for those without health insurance or financial means to cover necessary medical expenses.

If you're interested, I strongly recommend everyone to look into aiding or donating to this organization! At a time where our economy is in a meltdown and trying to rebuild itself, there is no better way to help our fellow neighbor, friend, family and loved ones by establishing an access to the healthcare that everyone deserves to receive.

Casualties of War Art Exhibit

2010-03-05T13:47:00.000-05:00

Just watched this video on CNN about a young artist from California named Emily Prince whose work is now being shown in an art gallery in London.

Not only is Prince's project profoundly breath-taking and touching, but the technique that she uses to approach each portrait is incredible.

Beginning in 2001, Emily Prince decided to create portraits of all of the U.S. casualties from the on-going wars in Afghanistan and Iraq. They are all done with black ink and she uses different shades of paper to represent their race.

I wish I could travel to London to see the exhibit. It looks amazing. But in the meantime, please check out Emily Prince's website.

A historical day in D.C.

2010-03-05T09:39:00.000-05:00

I saw this on Disgrasian this morning and can I just say that I am positively elated!

It is so refreshing to know that our capital has now recognized same-sex marriages and that 171 couples were able to legally marry to their life partners Wednesday morning.

Even awesome-r? Newly wed couple #3 have to be the cutest Asian lesbian couple I have ever seen!! Gotta represent! Congratulations to all of the newlyweds!

Now I guess my dream of one day marrying Natalie Portman CAN become a reality. ;-)

Stressed out to the max

2010-03-04T12:49:00.000-05:00

Currently running on -2000 hours of sleep it feels like, but to be more realistic, I'll say 0 hours. Because that's how many hours of sleep I have had in the past 48 hours.

I am so worried about this exam tonight. I don't feel as confident as I should with the neurotransmitters. ACK! I wish I could skip to tomorrow or tonight even, when this exam is over and I have accepted my failure. *le sigh

When in doubt, this is what Wendy's would like you to do.

2010-03-03T14:01:00.000-05:00

"Do what tastes right."

I assuming this means that if it doesn't look right, Wendy's would still say "Go for it". And if it didn't smell right, well, maybe it's just slightly wrong. But the REAL testament to righteousness is if it tastes right. OF COURSE!

How wrong would THAT be?

I can just see now a bouncer outside of a nightclub checking IDs at the door. A young girl hands him her ID and he waves it away with his hand.

"No, I don't need that...just give me a little taste," as he takes a lick of her arm.

"Yeah, no way, sweetheart. You taste about three months shy of being legal."

So remember, just do what TASTES right. If it doesn't taste right, then just say no.

This weekend!!!!

2010-03-02T13:37:00.000-05:00

Not only is it JOHNNY DEPP. Not only is it TIM BURTON. But it's also one of my favorite pieces of literature (right up there with To Kill A Mockingbird and The Catcher in the Rye).

I have been anticipating this movie for TWO years!!!! I heard about it being leaked on a film blog two years and almost died of pure unadulterated excitement. Cannot --- I repeat, CANNOT wait to see this movie!

What a way to end such a crappy week of testing. Not only do I think I failed miserably on my Health 101 exam, but I think I did TERRIBLE on my Chemistry 107 as well (which is even more heart wrenching since it's my third time taking the class) AND I got a 76% on my Psychology 101 exam that was ONLINE (which is a disgrace since I guess I could've looked up the correct answers had I had enough sense to do so).

I am hoping that I can turn this rough beginning to a school year around. At least now I know what to expect with each teacher.

Just in case inquiring minds want to know

2010-02-25T15:14:00.001-05:00

The Mighty Ducks: Where Are They Now?

Because you know I did.

Knucklepuck!

To get on my good side...

2010-02-25T13:13:00.002-05:00

You could bribe my happiness out with any one of the following items. (Who knows? You could get a tax write-off for it if you label it as "gift". Don't they give tax write-offs for gift-giving to the "Totally Fabulous"?): 1. This ring. Found out about Digby & Iona through a recent post off of What Claudia Wore (one of the many fashion blogs that I read on a daily basis). Immediately fell in love with their jewelry, especially since jewelry has become a recent fun fashion 'discovery' for me. It all started with FINALLY getting my ears pierced on my 24th birthday last year and ended with me constantly on the lookout for amazing necklaces, rings and bracelets to add to my budding collection. Yet another thing to break my bank over...but totally worth it. You can check out more of Digby & Iona's collections here.

2. These sandals. Because they look cool. And they are my absolute FAVORITE shade of gray. Did I mention that they look cool? BECAUSE THEY DO.

3. This jacket. I am in love with drapey fabrics. (Do NOT mistaken this for "billowy"!) Anything that cascades, criss-crosses or has any sort of sewn design that allows the material to sway when I move. I have been on the hunt for a jacket that had a criss-cross/drapey/odd shape to it since I was introduced to the black mini biker jacket from William Rast last season. It was a mistake to have allowed myself to let that fabric touch my skin. As soon as I had it on, I had to have it. Or at least something like it. This isn't quite "biker jacket" style, but this jacket definitely fits the bill of unusual and eye-catchy. And I'm all about eye-catchy.

EDITOR NOTE: Need Supply, Co. has become my current fashion obsession. Not only do I have it saved in my favorites, but I am half tempted to make it my home page for as long as their buyers keep bringing me delicious shoes and clothing on a regular basis.

Creativity Neurons Are Dying

2010-02-25T11:42:00.003-05:00

I feel like the creativity within my brain has been going numb recently.

Okay, that might have been a slight use of hyperbole...Perhaps just the writer's mentality of my creativity is what I feel to be numb.

With all the endless Psychology, Health and Nutrition and Anatomy and Physiology chapters I have perused countless times in the past three to four weeks, I imagine the little community of writers that I had so pleasantly tucked inside the recesses of my brain to jot out my poems, essays and blog posts for me are now retreating in horror to the masses of factual nonsense I have overloaded my brain with.

And yes, don't be too envious that I had a miniature community of writers in my brain. Oddly enough, they are quite the cheap little labor unit, finding sustenance purely on a hearty diet of onomatopoeia, alliteration, SAT vocabulary and maybe an iambic pentameter thrown in now and again. (A superb, flawless iambic pentameter is like crack cocaine to them, apparently. I mean the really good stuff, as they say.)

I guess if I gave any more thought to the fact that it has been YEARS since I have allowed myself the luxury of rekindling my romance with poetry and prose, I might find myself a bit depressed. There are times when I am walking to class or through the grocery store when the observant writer in me kicks in - I catch a glimpse of an unusual character, a piece of conversation flowing through the air, a piece of jewelry on someone that might illicit an interesting back story - and my mind is suddenly reeling with ideas, phrases, descriptions, questions and answers... but just like that, as imminent as their arrival was to my brain is as quick as their demise. Like sparklers that did not ignite enough energy from the matchstick to carry the spark for its full lifetime and as quick as the combustion hits the air it flickers for a second before blowing away.

So the best I can say to myself is that I am trying... writing has always been my guilty pleasure, my solace and my comfort. My goal is to ease myself back into writing full time as I did once before and I am thinking that the best way for me is to just start blogging randomly about things of interest and the more I practice and 'compost', the more my writing will sustain and improve. =)

Here goes nothing...

GAH!

2010-02-19T13:28:00.002-05:00

Doesn't it seem like every time something goes wrong or becomes stressful, everything else seems to follow suit?

The beginning of this year felt like it was going to start out strong but since January all I have had is a lot of stress. A shit-ton of stress, to be more precise.

I realize that for me - every once in a while I need to surround myself with the specific people that just make everything seem minuscule and obsolete when even the worst tends to start crashing down around me.

But this week has been filled with just feeling as if certain individuals are avoiding me, not answering legitimate questions, and not holding up to the basic standard of honesty is best policy. Which really grinds my gears.

What's even more frustrating is that my two best friends are in their MIA statuses this week - one, I haven't seen in over a month and one that I will not have seen in over a month by the time she gets back from New Zealand (lucky bitch!).

And so, I sit here, with a very hungry stomach, with co-workers that seem to be taking ALL DAY to take their lunch break, and me left wondering what the hell is going on with everyone in my life this week?

"Death and All His Friends"

2010-02-13T17:57:00.005-05:00

When I was younger, I had an overwhelming sense of fear over the prospect of death.

Possibly a bit too morbid, I am aware, for a 9 or 10 year old mentality, but I can grasp at a handful of distinct memories where I would wake up from terror nightmares of imagining what death would be like. At that age, I had no way of having any real depth perception as to what death entailed other than the image of what I saw in movies or TV (probably some episode of McGyver to blame for my fugitive imagination, no doubt).

I can vaguely recall the recurrence of these sleepless nights always beginning with me lying in bed, trying to be utterly still with my mind wandering off slowly. Once I could hear only the bugs outside my bedroom window chirping and buzzing softly, I found myself wondering if this is what death would be like. Don't ask me why, because for the life of me, I have no idea why I would have ever imagined something like this - but I do remember feeling a lot of fear. A lot of angst. I guess I had learned early on through my surgeries and physical therapy as a kid that the preparation for the experience seemed to make the experience itself less upsetting, less frightening. I wanted to know what death was like so I'd be ready.

So I'd lie in self-absorbed solitude for what seemed like forever (which means 3 minutes - tops) until I would suddenly realize that I hadn't been breathing that whole time and would scare the bejeebus out of myself once I gasped for air.

Long story short, none of my meager exploits into the minute life cycle of pre-mortem ever led to any acquiescence about death (with no surprise).

I recently realized that now, even as I delve deeper into my studies to what will eventually (and hopefully) become a career in medicine, I still have no idea what I think death is really like and whether to fear it or accept it for myself. But what I do know is that I fear death for everyone else on this planet. I fear the death of my parents (from either family), I fear the death of my sisters, my brothers, my neighbors, that guy that price checked my Mac & Cheese at the grocery store, the woman who held open the door for me today at REI...

because as I enter these trepid waters of medicine, I take on that responsibility. I am excited, anxious and cautious with a little bit of scared-shitless thrown in there. I know I can do it - deep within the recesses of my brain are all the necessary neurons to succeed. But I would be lying to all of you if I didn't admit that every now and again a little doubt is thrown my way. Maybe it's a bad grade here, a four-hour study session that ends with me killing more brain cells than enhancing...so I know those are the times I need to step back, take a deep breath, and realize that I can do whatever I put my mind to as long as my heart and perseverance is in on the same goal.

I promise to myself to keep writing in this thing - no matter how ominous it might seem. I believe that writing will always be my trusted compass. For whenever I fall off the broken path, once I sit down to write, I allow myself to bare my soul without ever really realizing it.

Preserving Hilarity

2010-02-01T14:02:00.003-05:00

I have been blessed to have best friends that have very similar senses of humor to my own. (And believe me, sometimes my sense of humor is quite twisted.) I had gotten this idea not only from www.textsfromlastnight.com but from several other fave blogs of mine.

Because my friends and I share a common marrow component in our funny bones, I usually get the most random and yet hilarious responses via text from them. Some of them I try to hold onto for as long as I can and have even resorted to placing some in a separate folder on my phone, hoping to preserve their funniness for my enjoyment on days like this past Saturday... where the snow had to barricaded in my house!

So instead, I'd like to put a few of the funnier ones up here before they get discarded for more phone memory. I have a feeling that a lot of them (if not all of them) insist on some sort of retardedly prepubescent inside joke my friends and I have cultivated from our conversations, but nonetheless, here they are:

"Hehe. I'm a gateway drug ...breakin down barriers everywhere!"

"Too much cat sexay goin on"

"Maybe he's on sushi driveby service?"

"I just overheard a lady telling another lady how she wishes she could wear a onesie. OMG."

"So its you and the crackheads. Must be quite entertaining!"

"Yeah, man. He's like a jelly-filled powered donut!"

Been a whole year...

2010-01-05T08:06:00.002-05:00

I have been MIA for a whole year! I keep trying to get back into the writing in my blog thing - it'd be the total understatement of the year if I said that SOOOO much has happened to me in 2009, but all in due time.

I have a ton of photos to weed through, a ton of things to talk about, and sooner than later I'll be able to get through all of it! <3

I hope all of you had an amazing holiday time! I know I did, a nice relaxing Christmas with my close best girlfriend and family and a new year celebration that I can only hope to top next January!!!

I'll be back soon...with a vengeance. ;-)

You may never understand why

2008-12-31T06:28:00.001-05:00

It's 6 AM and New Year's Eve and if you asked me to tell you how I was feeling right now - I know I wouldn't be able to. I never thought that I would ever be surrounded with so much love in my life and still feel so uncertain about everything to the point where it was harder to sleep at night.

I keep wondering if it's worth me getting upset over this. Wasn't it a loss in the first place? What if you woke up and the thing you thought you had always lost... might not be lost after all? Does that mean that even if you go through all the effort of searching for it - that if it goes lost again...everything is back where it was? And I remain the same?

Somehow, no matter how many times I might try to tell myself that you can't feel loss over something already lost...that I inevitably will. Because initially, isn't it always 'hope' that we feel anyway? 'Hope' that we could find that missing piece to our puzzle...and then when the hope disappears, it isn't necessarily the actual piece that we're missing. I think I'd start to miss the feeling of hope that it was ever there in the first place.

I am a step away from possibly knowing everything...or maybe even having more questions than I know what to do with. How do you differentiate between the questions of a 6-year old and the logical questions of a 23-year old? You can't, I guess. There is probably little difference of importance in my mind between: "Whose nose do I have?" and "Were you economically in hardship when you made that decision 23 years ago?"

Who knows what is going to happen on Friday. I am not even sure if I have an idealistic pan out of how I would want it to go because it hasn't crossed my mind.

But one thing is for sure...please don't ask me how...I have missed you.

A Day To Remember (or perhaps to forget)

2008-12-23T22:35:00.004-05:00

There are four pages of a scribbled letter tucked inside my black and white marbled notebook. It was the beginnings of a future blog post for this blog - my annual letter to my birthmother - telling her the struggles and triumphs of my 23rd year of being alive.

For the past week and a half, I, for some reason, kept holding off actually sitting down and typing it out here, not because it was too personal or too gritty...honestly, if you had asked me why I wouldn't have been able to give you a straight answer. Maybe it was because I have been so consumed with the move from Dundalk. (Yes, I have finally LEFT Dumb-dalk for good...and will post pictures of the barren room once I find my camera in one of these boxes that are looming in my room.) Whatever the reason, it just never got done.

And maybe it was a sign that I was meant to read it to her in person...

I don't really know where to begin with the rest of this post. I was trying to think of some clever epithet that might transition into the whole point of the post - but at this point, my brain is too fried with an excess abundance of emotion and utter cluster-fuckery (I just made that word up.) to even be witty or even give a hoot whether I am witty or not.

December 23, 2008 @ around 1 AM will be forever seared in my brain. If and when I have children, and I reflect on this tale to fill bedtime story nights, I will probably still struggle to piece together just exactly what got seared into my brain: a cautionary tale or a Christmas miracle. It is too early yet to decide.

But whatever it will be - what it is right now, at the present, is the exact time that I was trying to get rid of a nasty migraine by sleeping it away... and my 2nd night sleeping on the mattress that is in what will eventually be my bedroom in my Aunt's house. It seems ordinary and simple enough, and started out as any other night ...except that 1 AM will also forever be seared into my brain as the time my mother came into my bedroom to wake me up with the news.

The news that my birthparents have been searching for me and want to meet me.

It is now 11:02 pm of the very same day and I think I must have written the above sentence or said variations of it to myself at least a hundred thousand times. And yet even with saying it a hundred thousand more, I do not think that the sentence's true meaning will ever fully sink itself into my brain and channel signals of acknowledgement to my being.

Even now, there is still detachment from that sentence - as if tomorrow that whole sequence: me sleeping, my mom rushing into my bedroom in her jacket, shaking me awake, her eyes lighting up, and me sleepily opening my eyes to watch her lips move to form the words of that very same sentence....that whole sequence will be nothing but a dream. An afterthought to another dream that I had had.

But a part of me knows that it wasn't. That it was real. But I am not ready to believe that part. All day long I have been trying to figure out how to sum up how I feel and I just can't...it is hard to explain how in one moment - everything has changed with nothing happening. How just words could change my entire world and turn it upside down with no action following.

I am, Blog, scared shitless. Today I have felt happy, annoyed, joyous, angry, resentful, sadness, fear and frustration in succession of each other and even at times, simultaneously.

I have so much to say and yet have no words to say it with.

I have so many questions and yet am not quite sure I want to know the answers.

I want...and yet wish it was easier just to walk away...at the exact same time.

And despite all these crazy feelings - the one thing I keep dwelling on is the revelation that they searched for me.

These took the place of medicine and tissues today

2008-11-24T21:11:00.003-05:00

I woke up this morning with a huge fever, and decided that I needed to call out from work. Not only did I get the sleep that I needed, I also got a large amount of H2O which I learned today that I should be drinking in enough quantities so that eventually I will piss out clear fluids. (How gracious of me to share that with all of you, I know.)

Along with the slumber, water and mounds of tissues piled up next to my bed, I listened to several songs on slow repeat like a nice slow IV drip of therapeutic sounds. Starting with a steady drip of John Mayer courtesy of newcomer Gabe Bondoc (one of my favorite covers of this song):

And then onto "Right Here"... you know you loved this song... hahaha

If God was on my doorstep this morning...

2008-11-22T13:37:00.008-05:00

I would re-enact that scene from "Say Anything" and blare this song out of a 1980's boombox as loud as the volume dial would go. This is the new single from the highly-anticipated (for me and my best friend anyway) album from The Fray. It's is self-titled and although you might think it's too early for this yet -- this song has become my all-time life-anthem and will now replace that wretched smelling pink bookbag that I still have hung in my closet from my homeless days. Not only is this song more therapeutic, but I'm sure my room will stop smelling so bad now that the bookbag has had its proper burial in the trash.

I found God on the corner of First and Amistad
where the west was all but won
All alone, smoking his last cigarette
I said "where have you been?"
he said "ask anything"

"Where were you
When everything was falling apart?
All my days
Were spent by the telephone
It never rang
And all I needed was a voice
It never came
To the corner of First and Amistad"

Lost and insecure
you found me, you found me
lying on the floor
surrounded, surrounded
Why'd you have to wait?
Where were you, where were you?
Jst a little late
you found me, you found me

In the end everyone ends up alone
losing her,
the only one whose ever known
who i am, who im not, who i want to be
no way to know,
how lost you will be next to me

lost and insecure
you found me, you found me
lying on the floor
why'd you have to wait?
where were you where were you?
just a little late
you found me, you found me

early morning city wakes
I've been calling
for years and years and years and years
and you never left me no messages
you never send me no letters
you've got some kind of nerve
sticking all i want...

lost and insecure
you found me, you found me
lying on the floor
where were you where were you?
lost and insecure
you found me you found me
lying on the floor
surrounded, surrounded
why'd you have to wait?
where were you where were you?
just a little late
you found me, you found me

yeah yeah

Why'd you have to wait
to find me, to find me?

99 Problems

2008-11-21T08:48:00.004-05:00

This morning's Damage Control Report:

(1) semi-sore throat with a slight post-nasal drip.
(Probably a rebuttal from that region of my face for locking myself in my office during lunch and having an hour cry-fest.)

(10) completely bitten and torn up fingertips.
(Because when all shit hits the fan, my nail-biting habit ensues. And why worry about manicures when I still have my car payment to pay?)

(3) cups of coffee.
(The amount of caffeine it took to actually wake my ass up today.)

(2) hours of sleep.
(Why I needed the coffee)

On the up side, I did self-consciously reaffirm to myself last night within my 2 hours of sleep that I, in fact, have not lost my optimism.

In the dream there was this massive SUV that miraculously somehow held every single one of my friends along with me. We were just driving along with no particular direction when I felt this incredible shove out of no where to the right of me. I immediately felt my chest cave in, and my body get thrusted forwards. (Not only did it happen in the dream but I know that I definitely felt something.) I frantically began looking around the car for the safety of my friends, and it felt like we were transcending into this Matrix-like space in time where I could literally see the pieces of glass flying through the air in slow motion. I caught the faces of my friends - all of them fine, no blood, no cuts, no broken bones. And just like that - the car finally came to a screeching thud-pounding stop.

I realized that everything was okay. The car accident itself was a tragic and traumatic experience but in the wake of the aftermath - I had survived. Everyone had survived. I remember hearing my friend Andie's voice calling to me from the back seat as I quickly was dialing 911. "Everything is okay."

Everything is going to be okay. I just have to keep believing that. This is small, it's a little hill on my tumultuous journey through life. And I can survive it.

So I guess a big thanks to my self-conscious is definitely in order.

Music was my breakfast this morning...

2008-11-20T08:59:00.003-05:00

Who needs eggs and bacon when you've got Kanye West and Holly Brook? I had these two songs on rotate all morning long on my drive into work. And you know what? They are playing right now, too.

I have a big collection of music because for me, it's what keeps me sane. Sometimes there are just no words to explain the emotions that you feel and its just better described through lyrics. Thank God we've got some brilliant artists out there so I can release my good and bad energy every morning drive with my iPod cranked up loud.

This song is the 2nd song off of Kanye West's last dropped album: Graduation. "Champion" is awesome to me because even though the tone of the song is upbeat and kind of a "dance track" sound, if you listen to the lyrics, they are super bittersweet. It completely reminds me of my personality when shit goes bad: I smile, and seem upbeat, keep focusing on the positive yet I'll never forget that there is still sadness and frustration in my life. And eventually, I know I'll get back to being the "champion" that I know I'm supposed to be. I am quite aware of all the controversy that surrounds Mr. West, but I am not one to make sudden opinions about music artists based on what I hear in the media and what I see displayed on my TV screen. So he hit some guy...everyone's entitled to get pissed off, right? Good music is good music to me and if it helps me out of my emotional distress - well then, I'd hit that papporazzi myself.

I absolutely love Holly Brook. I love her look, I love her style, I love her voice. When I first found her album "Like Blood Like Honey", I listened to every single song more than ten thousand times over and over again. I found myself nodding vigorously with tissue clasped in hand as I listened to every lyric like it was a Lifetime movie special thinking, Oh my God, Holly Brook - you GET ME, you REALLY GET ME. This song is just one of my many favorites from this album, and if you ever get a chance you should really listen to it from cover to cover. Every song is completely melodic and brilliantly written. Plus I think that you'll agree with me when I say that after listening to it in its entirety, you feel like you should have somehow gone through a life changing journey or something and become completely depressed when you realize you've been just sitting on your couch surrounded by a pile of used tissues that equate to the amount of sorrow that you actually have in your life. *le sigh*

PS. For both of these, it really is worth it to check out the lyrics.

She'll never admit that she's wrong.

2008-11-19T23:08:00.003-05:00

Tonight, while wallowing in my self-pity that I have begun to think of as an art form in the past two months, I finally had the last straw. I keep saying that every single bad or shitty thing that has happened to me in the past two months is the last straw - but this one, well, this one was the very very very very last straw.

Financially I am just way in over my head. Where I thought I was ahead, I am now significantly behind all due to an unfortunate mishap with the scheduling of my payment with the auto insurance company (As Chris Rock would say... my "in-case-shit-happens" policy).

For God knows how long, my mother has been OCD about lists. And before you try to read that sentence again, don't. It's not worth wasting your time. You read it right: lists. She loves lists. No, no, let me scratch that. She ADORES and IDOLIZES and maybe if one day a magical wizard turned a List into a man she would probably marry that List and run away and adopt babies to supplement his lack of love for her.

It's become this sickening obsession for her and when I was younger, I used to think that it meant she was organized and that I, by being one who did not keep a list, was severely unorganized. However, twenty-three years of living as a terminally SANE human being and a few years of puberty and a month of homelessness has helped lead me to the conclusion that the lists do not help her at all. In fact, I have come to the clear diagnosis that the list itself is a manifestation of her insecurities and her lack of being able to control and handle even the smallest minute detail of her life. So to make up for the discrepency of say........not being able to function like a normal human being like the rest of the world, my mother writes a list. Every day.

AND THEN PROMPTLY LOSES IT AND SPENDS THE REST OF HER DAY SEARCHING FOR THE LIST BECAUSE WITHOUT IT, GOD FORBID SHE BE ABLE TO FUNCTION.

Now in her defense, this does not happen every day. The great event of "losing-the-list" is one that happens often, but not every single day. But she does write one.

So of course, when I first lost my job and realized I was going to be way in over my head if I didn't find a job to supplement my income fast, you could guess what advice my mother had for me.

Mom: "Hi dear. How are you?"

Me: "Lousy. I just lost my job... I have bills to pay this month... I just filed for unemployment but I am not going to hear from them for another two weeks or so and shit is already starting to become due. I don't know what I am going to do."

Mom: "I know what you need to do. It'll solve all your problems." (said very matter of factly)

Me: "Do you know of anyone who might have a job opening? Or do you know anyone I can send my resume to?"

Mom: "No, of course not. You'll have to find that on your own. I am talking about writing a list. A list dear. A list of all your debt. Once you see it all laid out on paper, it'll all become clear."

Me: "Mom, do you realize you're asking me to slit my wrists?"

Mom: "What was that?"

Me: "Nothing. I am not going to write a list. Not now, not ever."

But tonight, Jesus, maybe the stress got to me, but for whatever reason - she was standing over me in the kitchen and I am sitting there with tears starting to form behind my eyes and she kept talking about this damned list writing --- so I did it. I wrote a damn list.

-=Me writing numbers and scribbling calculations on a page then handing it to her=-

"There, Mom. There it is. In black and white. What do you have to say? What happens now? What does the list do now?"

-=My mother stares blankly at the page. Blinks again and takes on an empty look.=-

Mom: "Wow. Didn't know it was this bad. Don't know what to tell you. But don't you feel better now that you wrote it all down?"

Just in case people would like the Cliff Notes version of this story: NO, I DID NOT FEEL ANY STINKIN' BETTER!! I felt crappier actually because I now had numbers and figures that are higher than the year I was born staring me in the face. So much for lists.

Another past post for your reading enjoyment...

2008-11-10T08:08:00.000-05:00

This post was actually untitled. I am sure that I could have come up with a snazzy title myself, but at the moment, I'll save the brain-matter it takes to come up with a title for better use in helping study for my Chemistry quiz later on tonight.

I think once reading through this post - you can tell I was composting...just writing shit on a page to get out some kind of underlined frustration. I wrote a lot of these about work and the environment I found myself in every single day. It was ridiculously disturbing to watch these people gravel and pant to anyone who held a title higher than their own. And yet, I know this is the basic foundation of any corporate office, unfortunately.

Without further ado...

I am pretty sure, at least almost precisely sure, after working three or
four years in the banking industry that it is swarmed with men in expensive
suits that have ball-less balls. Yes, that's right, you heard me. Ball-less balls.

How are these different than having no balls at all? Well, for that fact
alone, you see. Without knowing from firsthand experience (as much as I am now
self-proclaiming to be a "balls" expert) I am almost certain that all the men
here have their balls in tact. I don't go out of my way to ask them of this
fact, I merely just assume because they play their manly appearance in quite an
impressively convincing way. So these men have balls, yet they are ball-less. Follow me yet?

Take yesterday for example. Since I began working for the mortgage industry
almost three or four years ago now, I have been surrounded by bankers and
"mortgage lenders" (aka the less glorifying name of Loan Officer. Apparently
"Mortgage Lender" looks that much better on a business card in
neat and tiny professional font.) who are men. It is a very male-dominated
business. I think for every four loan officers, there is a woman counterpart.
That's the ratio to my untrained eye.

Regardless, these men walk around all day in their three-piece suits,
especially where I currently work, and their pure silk ties, and their
Nordstrom-bought shoes. They walk the hallways of the building, sometimes
perusing the cubicles as if to say "I am Loan Officer, Here me ROAR!". But more
often than not, they are found giving in to small demands and eagerly tempted by
hierarchy power that impresses them with free memberships to country clubs, or
the day off to mingle on some rich bastard's yacht.

Who knew having
ball-less balls paid off so well?

Backtracking my way across the Arirang again

2008-11-06T22:56:00.002-05:00

Yesterday I realized after posting my excitement about Obama-rama that I have a ton of unfinished, unedited, unposted posts just sitting in my post log archive. And once going through some of them, I can't even imagine why I didn't post them in the first place.

I guess the answer to that question leads to the blog post that I am undeniably stalling to write to you: what in the hell I have been up to for the past 5 months of my life. Don't worry, like any other over-analytical person I know, in due time, my friends, my super power of over-analyzing every intricate detail of my life will rear its ugly head and when it does, rest assure this blog will be the first to endure what it has to offer.

However, in the meantime, I kinda want to share these posts with you. They are intimate, of course - and I think that this absence has allowed me to step back and regroup my thoughts about why I started blogging in the first place. Why did I hide these originally? What is so ghastly un-PC about them or embarrassing that I haven't already exposed about myself? So here ya go...starting with this post I had entitled:

So maybe it's TMI but I'm utilizing this blog as my emotional pillow...

Not that I share this kind of info with my friends or rather, the blogger world (I usually tend to just pick random passer-bys and gush out all my inner most personal details about my life instead. Joking, of course. Or not.) but I haven't had a (.)(<--this will signify what I am talking about since for some reason the word "menstruation" sounds ugly, and makes it sound like I have had some disease) in five months. I figure that you have all seen me through my trying times of hair-loss, so why all the symantics? Anyway, I haven't had it in five months. Until Sunday. It was as if my uterus finally got the memo sent from my white blood cells months ago because the memo had been sent by USPS(and we all know how ridiculously slow they can be) and somehow got lost and tossed on Nerve-Ending #2879's desk before he realized that oh shit, this had to be sent to the Uterus months ago now...better late than never, and he promptly placed the memo back on its way. The memo said:

Dear Uter-i: (that's White Blood Cells' nickname for my Uterus.
Because they are tight pals and have been ever since that one time they hung out at the club and went home smashed together.)

We are sorry we over-reacted, and kicked Hair Follicles' ass in.
We just didn't like how they were getting all the attention...all those appointments to the colorists and stylists. When was that no good bitch of a body-owner going to start taking care of us? She really thought just drinking orange juice and taking vitamins was going to appease her WBCs? Dumb bitch. She had another thing comin', obviously.
So please don't take this personally. The attack really wasn't against you or Hair Follicles. We just didn't know what else to do but get radical on her ass in order to start taking better action towards her health. And we're not talkin' just physical. I don't have to tell you how kooky she is. We see how you like to pull those quirky crazy strings come your time of the month to shine. Kudos to you.

Hope no hard feelings, Uterii.

Yo homies,

The WBCs

Feeling American

2008-11-05T10:32:00.004-05:00

Last night, America showed we are ready for change, and do believe that in America, all things are possible, and you can be anyone, and accomplish anything you set your heart on.

Kimchi Weekend #2 2008 (In order to fulfill my curiousity in how men go to the bathroom)

2008-06-05T11:44:00.008-05:00

Okay, so the hose is nowhere near my crotch...but somewhere in my deranged, off-center thought process, I could envision while standing there for about 30-45 minutes holding that hose in my hand in a slightly downward position that this would be, in fact, the closest thing to being a man standing at a urinal. That is, if that said man were 300 lbs and had a bladder the size of the Lochness monster. Ahh, a girl can wonder, can't she?

The past weekend marked the 2nd "Kimchi Weekend" at Laura unni's house and proved to be just as fun, and even more rewarding than the first time I went. There is definitely something to be said about cooking collectively that brings a group of people together in an amazing and surreal way. It seems so subtle and sort of ridiculous - the idea of standing in a kitchen together, slaving over the stove, peeling and cutting vegetables, filling big tubs of cabbage up with water - but I have never felt more connected with four women in my entire life, almost as close as the first time that I ever learned how to cook any Korean dish in a Korean kitchen.

See all those bottle tops there? Awww yeah, you're not seeing things - that is all alcohol, baby. Let's just say the first night was our attempt at making mandu that ended in four or five drinks later, a girl pow-wow outside on the porch curled up together chattering until 6 AM and absolutely no mandu made at all.

Every time I go to Laura's house, I feel like I get closer to a part of myself that I had never exposed before. Sometimes a part of myself that I didn't even know existed. It's a comforting and blessed thing to be able to have a place to go with nothing holding you back from being completely yourself and to be surrounded by people who only encourage and facilitate your inner soul to grow and emerge as a stronger person.

As horribly stereotypical as this is going to sound, I felt like I was in a scene of the Joy Luck Club. Or Soul Food. Or The Ice Storm. Five women in a kitchen until 5 AM, talking of life, love, loss, pain, perseverance, courage, bravery and being scared shitless sometimes. It was like the scene of a movie where you know this is the pivotal point, this is where the epitome of the movie is coming from. This wholly collective togetherness that is encasing around these five individuals.

I was left with a lot of wonderful, somewhat scary, and yet poignant thoughts to ponder when leaving Laura's house. And I also took away with me some amazing new friendships.

If I take my heart's advice, you can be sure, I'm still unsteady...

2008-05-28T12:23:00.003-05:00

This past weekend's events have become an entire blur with only bits and pieces electrifying through the nerves in my brain to communicate that yes, you did do things this weekend.

For starters on Friday, I was reunited, if only for one night, with my friend Y, who was on her way to Staten Island where she will reside indefinitely (hopefully, for her sake). It was a nice reunion, filled with a night of endless driving, (If anyone were to ever ask me how to get anywhere in the state of Virginia, please do not be offended when I laugh maniacally in your face. Short Code: Virginia's roads are definitely not for lovers, and more explicitly, not for me) girl-talk until the wee hours, several hours of partying and dancing to the sounds of Noel Sanger (who I coincidentally had an impromptu "heart-to-heart" talk with at the end of the night that was pretty cool) and then a very near-crazy 58-mile drive home for myself, alone.

I spent most of the beautiful weather on Saturday inside the confines of my room. Not because I was broke or because there were no plans (And here is where I input yet another apology to K.Hyon for missing out on hanging out in the rays of daylight!), but because my partied-out, old-fart ass was complacently passed out in the thrawls of slumber for several hours - hours only intermittently disturbed by my addiction to YouTube videos and watching reruns of Clean House on the Style Network (Don't deny the powers of Ms. Niecy...seriously).

I was abruptly pulled from this spell by numerous phone calls, one of which was Darren (aka Bathroom Boy) which went as follows:

Me: (sleepily) He...hello?

Bathroom Boy: Dude, what happened to you last night? What are you doing?

Me: (pulling a potato chip out of the bag lying in front of me on top of my comforter) Nothing, I was just lying around, catching up on sleep from last night. And what do you mean what happened to me last night? I was at Snatch. Where were you?

Bathroom Boy: I looked for you - everywhere.
(Note: I hardly believe that he looked EVERYWHERE. Because if he had, in fact, looked EVERYWHERE then he would have inevitably found ME.)

Last night was Christian's birthday, and I stopped by to say hi before heading to Buzz.

Me: Ohh...was that you? I saw some tall black dude with glasses on walking out the door but I figured you'd be at Buzz, so I knew it wouldn't be you.

Bathroom Boy: Well it was, and you missed out. Anyway, so I'll see you tonight.
(Note: That was not a question.)

Me: Wait - what do you mean? See me tonight? Who said I was going anywhere?

Bathroom Boy: No one did. But you're on the guestlist, and it's free before 11...so be there.

Me: Wow, that's very direct and bossy of you. What if I don't want to go?

Bathroom Boy: You don't have to want to go - but you must be there.

Me: Peer pressure, much?

Bathroom Boy: Peer pressure all the way. See you tonight. [Click.]

Five hours later, a trip to downtown Baltimore's Sutton Place to pick up three tag-a-longs and off on 295 I went. I wrangled up enough energy to drive myself to DC, yet again and parked the car.

Ten minutes later, after meeting J.Lo and Ciconte and Dane at the door - we were inside, and down to the main room.

Several hours of dancing, partying, laughing and [will insert another story at a later date here], I was ready to go home, and so were my tag-a-longs. However, my friends had a different plan in mind and within 20 minutes of coersive speech on their part - I found myself in the car, with R and the tag-a-longs driving back to Baltimore to do a drop-off and head my ass as well as R's back to Virginia for a further partying fiasco.

In the end, this weekend was altogether fun, and I am ultimately proud of myself for the way that I held myself this weekend, with all things considered.

This weekend is going to bring lots more pictures, I promise - as I take on the road again towards Pennsylvania to stay with L unni and the Korean sistas for our now monthly "Kimchi Weekend". I can't wait. It'll be really relaxing, and peaceful to just be around people who completely and utterly get you. Plus, throwing a few martinis and a shitload of delicious kimchi and mandu in the mix doesn't hurt either.

What I imagine the sound of my heart pounding in a bed of silence looks like...

2008-04-12T18:00:00.006-05:00

This is about the time that my heart exploded in my chest, and then I realized that the fast breeze blowing through the strands of my hair was actually the air being broken by my airbourne vehicle:

This is probably what the police report and insurance claim reads because this was all I could manage to muster five hours after the accident:

"4:12 am. Was leaving DC and following the direction of my GPS system, took the tunnel leading towards the 295 SE/SW entrance but went into the wrong tunnel heading towards RFK lot. Entered into complete and utter darkness with no lights, no signs. Tried to adjust to the darkeness and just when I realized the pavement swurved to the left, I tried to turn left but had already hit the tree with my right side and turned upside down, did a 360 degree turn in the air befofe flipping back over and doing a 80 degree swurve to a stop."

The only reason how I know exactly what direction my car flipped, okay, there are two:

1. The fact that as my car impacted on the tree I felt my entire insides lift up from my stomach to my lungs, compressing together like a Slinky being turned upside down. What I didn't fully realize immediately? That I was upside down. And I caught a millisecond glimpse out the cracked glass of the passenger window enough to see the pavement at eye level, and the tunnel glowing through the darkness at me. That's when I closed my eyes to prepare for nothing, something and everything - all at the same time.

2. My Guardian Angel: In the form of a 6"5-6"7 thin-framed man in a red Honda hatch. An image that will stick with me for the rest of my life as a reminder that the smallest instantaneous moments can quite possibly bring you the most purest form of joy that you'll ever feel in a lifetime.

Hours before I would see the "light of life" and my car was left demolished, I had spent the entire day just trudging through work. It was just another day among the many where I kept wandering the maze of cubicles wondering why I still, without fail, park in the same spot, walk through the same building and sit in front of the same screen every single day and endure the bezerk behavior of certain people who have made it a career in having no basic social skills.

By the time 5 o'clock chimed in, I was ready to leave the smothering feel of work and escape to a place I knew I could just let go: in the presence of friends, dancing and just releasing all that anger and stress out.

Several hours later, Christauff and I were doing our regular Friday night ritual of walking each other to our cars safely. We had the miracle of parking on the same street as each other (a rarity to anyone who has ever tried to park to go to a club in DC) and I got into my car and watched as he walked across the street to his. I went to program my GPS to head home, and started to pull out of my spot.

There were a lot of little miracles that night. Little bits of instances that in retrospect, I will be grateful for, for the rest of my life. The fact that I had decided to go to Ultrabar where seven people I knew were going to be there, the fact that Christauff and I always walked to our cars together after the night was through, the fact that Christauff forgot that I had a GPS in my car and had seen me headed in a different direction than he thought would be the regular way for me to get home and just figured I was lost, the fact that he then, as a great friend with concern, decided to follow behind me to make sure I was headed in the right direction - and that he kept following me until he was 3/4 mile away in his car as he watched my car propel itself through the air.

I even feel blessed that I had had such a crummy week prior. I had pictures of my brother's bedsores running around in my head, constant thoughts of my brother's legs being amputated, depressed over my job and my inability to deal with overt micromanagement, frustrated with the outcome of my future - where was I headed with my life? how was I going to get there?, hurt from the loss of a friend and caught in a whirlwind of complete and utter confusion with life in general.

But in that millisecond glimpse of the world upside down, and in the next instant when I closed my eyes and prepared for what I feared to be the end, I found myself shaking away that fear, gripping the steering wheel with both hands tightly, keeping my eyes shut tight as my heart pounded in my throat, my ears, the pit of my stomach - I just let go of every single stress and hurt that I had been consumed with before - and relaxed my body and just breathed.

When I opened my eyes, glass was everywhere, and my hands were bleeding and so was a small patch on my chest where the airbag had hit. Smoke was all around me, and I turned my head ever so slightly to try and make sense of what my eyes were seeing through the cracked and broken glass window of my driver's door: Christauff, his red Honda hatch, and him running from his car, across the pavement, to open my car door.

I walked out of the accident truly unscathed. No broken bones, no massive amounts of blood. As I lay in the guestroom of Christauff's and his girlfriend's condo that morning, I kept counting the solid breaths of air that I sucked into my lungs.

"Someone wants you around, Em," Christauff had kept saying as we drove to his condo.

This is my second chance at life. This is my chance to keep living it without regret and to realize the true value of what I have surrounding me. I was given a second chance at this journey and I am not going to waste it worrying about things that I cannot change.

Just for the record...

2008-03-27T10:33:00.003-05:00

I will probably never be okay with how it all went down. And it will probably always leave this bitter taste in my mouth whenever I think about it - and me always wondering, what exactly it was that made the final taste so bitter?

There are so much of my feelings that I want to exert upon - and so many of my thoughts that I have kept to myself, mostly because I really haven't found a way to make them make sense outside my mind, but maybe one day: I'll be sitting in my house reading a book or out on the beach with the waves crashing in and I will be able to grab my journal and write down everything I feel and think at this exact moment in ways I never thought I'd be able to express. This is the act of composting. This is my way of spring cleaning for my soul.

My Coming to America

2008-03-21T07:59:00.004-05:00

When I was around 10 or 11 years old, I used to feel really uncomfortable and uneasy when it came to my friends and the conversation of birthdays. I'm not sure if your peers at that age were anything like mine, but it became some one's novelty idea to state not only their date of birth but the exact time stamp as well. You would be in the middle of 5th grade English class, and it'd be Mary Sue's birthday and when asked if it was, indeed, her birthday, Mary Sue would reply: "Yes! But my Mom says I wasn't born until 1:45 pm exactly!"

At that age, the fact that I couldn't give you the exact time of my birth unsettled me in some way. I don't know if I can dig that far back into my past to precisely explain to you why I felt the way that I did, and I'm not even sure that if you could talk to the 10-year old me that I would be able to explain it any better. I just did.

I felt embarrassed, and overwhelmed with just how embarrassed I felt over some minute detail that in the grand scheme of things, held little to no consequence if not to just be some sentimental value to throw into the pages of a baby book. But God, no matter how lame you might have tried to twist it to be, I would have wanted nothing more than to tell you what time I was born.

When I think back at the significance of my feelings as a kid, I guess I could self-analyze and tell you that this obsession and immense feeling of hurt/embarrassment that came with not knowing the time of day I was brought into this world would probably stem from the deeper-rooted problem of just not knowing anything. It could be, but I can't exactly be sure. Perhaps you could just chalk it up to pure peer pressure and peer anxiety of wanting to fit in. I guess maybe essentially that's all my adoption issues were - this identity confusion and overwhelming sense of wanting to find a place to belong. Who knows. (I sure as hell don't, even after all these years.)

Today, though, today is my redemption. Today would eventually become the counter-attack for my self-esteem during the early years when I would battle with my adoption demons over what made me feel more "whole". And as I grew older, and into my now early twenties, I have been able to remember this day with a tainted bittersweetness. The kind of bittersweetness you feel when speaking of a loved one: can't live with it, can't live without it.

Today is my "Gotcha' Day". The day that I arrived off the plane from South Korea into BWI at around 11:45 pm at night. The flight was long and I was actually part of a group of seven or eight children that were being flown into the airport from Korea with my parents being one of the adoptive couples. I hear stories, and I see pictures - a picture of my tiny, frail premature body being carried off the plane by one of my mother's closest friends - another picture of an anonymous Korean woman standing at the edge of the airflight gate, looking on with tears in her eyes. I had later learned that this woman was one of the young Korean women who volunteer to be "baby escorts" or pseudo-mothers for at least the long journey over to America. This was my "birth", so to speak. This was my coming into my life as an Asian-American. As the person that I am now.

At the peak of my teen angst years, I looked at this day with disdain. In my eyes, I was brought here against my will, I had no say in the matter - and it especially hit me harder whenever my parents would say things like, "We didn't bring you here to screw up your life." or "We adopted you to save you. You wouldn't have survived at all in that orphanage."

Nowadays, it's just a day. A day to remember, of course, but just a day nonetheless. Without it, I probably wouldn't be here writing in this blog, in this chair, thinking about how my Spanish midterm is due by midnight tonight. With it, I have faced a lot of turmoil, identity confusion, frustration and hurt. But I wouldn't be me without all of those things.

So maybe, just maybe, I'll break out the vodka and orange juice tonight to celebrate. And more than likely, I might even throw on "Coming to America" to heighten the celebration festivities. =)

I am hanging on by a thread...

2008-03-04T13:50:00.003-05:00

This morning I woke up and felt this nauseating feeling in my stomach. As if my intestines were arguing angrily with the rice I ate the night before - rumbling hard to get the rice the hell off their turf.

And that'd be okay, if it didn't wake me up abruptly at 3 AM - when I hadn't gone to bed until midnight after trying to finish my Chemistry homework. Which by the way, wasn't a successful attempt at all.

There's a quiz tonight on Nomenclature - and I could no more name my stuffed animals when I was younger - much less name ionic and binary compounds. Who am I kidding?

I just keep thinking that if I keep hanging on by this thread - and keep tugging - maybe I'll find the end of the string that leads to the full spool, so I can get my act together. I'm not nervously breaking down or anything, the stress actually helps keep me grounded and centered, in a weird, funky sort of way.

I do hope I can make up for all the points I've lost so far by not being able to complete the damned homework.

Meet me at the crossroads (Echo & Fade: crossroads...crossroads)

2008-03-03T14:17:00.003-05:00

There is no better way to explain how I feel at this precise moment than to tell you that I am at a definite and indefinite crossroads.

For the most part 2008 has become synonymous with the word "change" for me. A transition of sorts that keeps spiraling me further and further into a point where I realize - I just need to let go. There comes a point in a person's life when you just cannot have control over any thing.

I got offered a position as an M.A. for a doctor's office close-by. I had gotten a call sometime last week from my old Biology teacher who had recommended me for the position. Believe me, I was excited - but at the same time, I am really frightened. And I don't know why.

I always keep telling myself that I need a change - and yet, when one comes, I shy away. In all things. I am such a weirdo like that.

The doctor's office would train me. I don't have to know a damned thing. I was scared they wouldn't want to hire me, partially because I am so young in my educational career - with only a few science credits under my belt, and no challenging lab experiences - let alone real-time patient interaction.

But now they want to offer me the job. And I'm scared. Why? Why am I so frightened of something that would really be beneficial for me in the long run?

Well, for one thing, I'd be making significantly less. But the hours are flexible and all over the place. That has its good and bad points. Good: I'd be able to space my classes farther apart, and attend more classes and be able to have more study time (because I am currently WAY behind in my Spanish Web class. I don't know how I am going to catch up, EVER. But I have to get an A!). Bad: I probably wouldn't have consistent times off. Not that that is really bad- it's just something to think about.

Also, with such a cut in pay, I would have to take on a second job. Most likely a retail one - because no corporate job (unless I worked as a secretary or something) would be able to let me work part time with some goofy-ass hours.

This is what I want- isn't it? This is the start of my new chapter/phase in my life, right? A start towards my future, and what I've been working my ass off for the past couple of months for.

So why do I feel like such a chicken shit ready to piss my pants?

Uhhh...Welcome to Baltimore?

2008-02-24T14:10:00.001-05:00

There is something to be said about people who live in a city. And by that I mean, car-less, street walking, metro-taking individuals who brave the dark alleyways each and every night to get to where they've got to go. These are people I call: urban dwellers.

Urban Dwellers take no crap. They are schooled in "Street Smarts 101": they know when to be on guard, when to relax a bit, what metro stop you just don't stop at unless you're with a big group of people or you have two cans of Mase in your messenger bag. They know that to live in a city of any size it becomes a love-hate relationship. And it's definitely not for everyone.

I don't claim to be a full-on urban dweller because I grew up calling home a suburban neighborhood in Towson. But even so, I'm not a stranger to the streets of Baltimore, and more recently not a stranger to the streets of DC either. I'm not saying that Baltimore is my favorite place to be, in fact I have devoted myself quite humbly to the task of leaving Baltimore within the next few years, God willing. But in the same breath, I can tell you that Baltimore is not always a live episode of The Wire either.

Unless...okay, well unless you're not from here. Which is exactly what happened to the new guy at work.

I had been noticing that the corner office as you first walk into our department had been empty for the past week or two. This was extremely unusual, and yet not something completely startling mainly because the person who occupies that office had started just three weeks before.

With all my usual deadlines and goings-on throughout the day, it would slip my mind to ask someone about what had happened to the guy in the corner office. He seemed to have been doing pretty well with his department, and I hadn't heard any bad things about him through the office gossip and occasional "watercooler conversations". So where was he?

It wasn't until maybe well into the second week that I walked into my boss' office and stepped right into the conversation she was having with another one of my coworkers.

"Well, it's just so sad, you know?" she said softly, leaning her head towards my coworker who was sitting in a chair in front of her desk.

"Yes, it's unfortunate," replied my coworker.

"What's so sad?" I asked, after be silent for a whole milli-second, which is long enough, in my opinion, to wait before jumping into a frivolous office gossip conversation.

"You didn't hear?" my boss exclaimed, pushing back into her seat as if this was the biggest news since slice bread and how could no one have told me?

"About what?" I said, nudging her to tell me more as it was obvious she was now bursting at the seams with this unsolicited information.

"About (his name will now be...) Gary. About what happened to him last weekend," she started, and then let her voice drop a whole ten octaves as she pushed herself forward, "He got jumped and mugged in the city and had to go to the hospital."

Now the idea of being jumped in Baltimore is pretty damn plausible. The probability of it happening to anyone in any city is decidedly high. But the fact that it happened to this poor man after only living in Maryland for five whole weeks? Well, that just plain sucked ass.

"I can't get over that," I replied.

"Well, I've heard that he had some broken ribs, a broken arm and they broke his nose and he had to have some reconstructive surgery on his face," she went on.

Chills came over me when I heard that. When late last year we had found out that Kuya had gotten mugged in DC, we were all pretty scared. But he hadn't gotten seriously hurt. He just had his wallet and money taken away. This sounded brutal.

I suddenly felt the urge to apologetic to Gary at my first sight of him whenever he returned. Baltimore is a place I go my hometown, I am not particularly proud of it or anything, but seriously, I felt terrible that this happened to someone who had only been living here for a little over one month.

"That really is horrible," my coworker chimed in, "It sucks that he got so banged up before his health insurance kicked in!"

As horrible as that statement was, it was the truth. And I can't imagine having to have such extensive surgeries in a place that you just moved to, in a hospital you're not familiar with, with no family or friends around, and on top of that, have no way of paying the medical bills.

Once I had learned of Gary's mishap, I thought back on his first few days here and what our first conversation had entailed.

I remember introducing myself, and being excited to know that there'd be another "young person" working here. Gary is only 27 years old, and that makes him only 5 years my senior. In this banking business, that is pretty young.

Gary talked about growing up in some small town in Maine. He knew everyone's name and they knew his. His neighbors were his parents' best friends and life long pals type of deal. He just came from a truly rural/suburban area that was real home town grown.

And then...moved to Baltimore.

Again, not to say this is a bad city in its entirety, but if you look at it in contexts with the comparison to a Maine township, it is a pretty extreme jump.

Gary literally came here with no new friends, and a totally clean slate. And I feel really bad for the guy that his first months here turned out as crappy as they did.

But he has since seemed adjusted, and I keep encouraging him that the whole city of Baltimore isn't that bad, but you just have to pick out the good parts. Just like any other city.

Hopefully he'll take up my offer, and I can take him somewhere we can grab a few drinks and be surrounded by people that will actually give him a better handle on what Baltimore, geesh, what Maryland as a state, has to offer him.

-=EDIT=- Sorry guys I originally started to write this on Feb 11th, and so you can see what a delay that I have in my posts. Free time is definitely hard to come by these days.

ReCoGnIzE! (My Day in DC)

2008-02-20T08:36:00.003-05:00

Last week sometime, I was talking with my new female-writer confidant (LP2 is what I'll nickname her, since I already know 1 LP already.) and we had decided quite brilliantly that since we both worked for "governmental jobs" (hers more than mine, to be honest) that allowed us to celebrate the birth of Abraham AND George so luxuriously, it might be fun to check out the new Hip-Hop-infused art exhibit at the National Portrait Gallery in DC. (Seriously, what better way to celebrate the birth of two Presidents than to go back to their political stomping ground?)

I was really looking forward to hanging out with LP2 for several reasons:

1. LP2 has to be one of the most amazing writers I've ever read. Anything she writes about, I just have to read. It's ridiculous, honestly. To be completely embarrassing, I have to admit that I will scroll through the comment sections of Racialicious just to read her comments. Why? Because this woman has the ability to speak her mind in intelligent and graceful ways I can't even imagine. In short, I am LP2's biggest fan. (oh yes, LP2, it's totally true.)

2. Something about becoming closer to LP2 as a person rather than a writer, helped me open myself up as a writer again, surprisingly. Talking with her through emails back and forth and such, really reminded me of how much I miss writing and expressing myself. And how much I've been using so many other forms of communication that haven't been as faithful or as effective as writing has been for me in the past. I am just so excited to finally have a tie into writing community again. I felt like I had been pushed out, mainly voluntarily...okay, mostly voluntarily. By pushed out, I guess I mean, me - slowly over time - pulling away from writing because I felt it kept me from the doing of life. But now after all this doing, I'm starting to feel the only way for me to truly own it, and love it, is to reflect and write. And it's just great to be surrounded by people who get the same satisfaction, like LP2.

3. We were going to see a fricken' art exhibit, for chrissakes! How awesome/fantastical/amazing/brilliant/spectaculicious is that?! I hadn't been to a true art exhibit in years, unless you count that one time that that guy who was really into this scathingly bad art forced me to go to this tattoo-parlor-turned-art-studio with lots of men and women dressed in fancy clothes, drinking cheap champagne out of plastic wine glasses while walking around staring at photos of girls in their underwear with gag balls in their mouths and said "How extraordinary and deep! I'll buy FIVE!" ...so I hadn't really been to an art exhibit at all... in a LONG time.

4. This would ultimately be my (Count it!) 2nd time driving to DC by myself, in the daylight. You know, that little thing called sunshine where you're able to see your hand in front of your face without squinting really hard beyond the laser lights and the darkness and whatever trippy lighting effects you can think of? It was fantastic to be driving, especially on a random day where the weather was perfect 60 degrees outside! I literally rolled my windows down as soon as I hit 295, and turned the air conditioning on because the sun was so warm and delicious. I was excited to finally be getting out of the house, and driving to DC for a quick adventure. Not that I haven't been out of the house at all in the past few months (if you've been reading this and other blogs, you'll notice I have!) but this was just a little different. No familiar faces, no particular event that I was time-constrained to. I just knew eventually LP2 and I would go to the National Portrait and eventually we'd get so annoyed with the growling of our stomachs that we would succumb and gobble food to tell it to shut up.

Once I got into DC off New York Ave, I recognized where I was completely - it seems like anywhere and everywhere that I have spent oodles and oodles of my time has been off of New York Ave. The only thing about heading that way was worrying about the traffic, which wasn't as bad as I had expected it to be - possibly because I kept forgetting that it was a government holiday, and literally everything, save for the galleries and exhibits, on Pennsylvania Avenue was shut down for the day.

I just had to find parking. Ugh. If there is one thing that I have to say that I hate about having a car is getting to the place and then having to roam around for an hour to find parking. Because every one knows that all the cool places; ie: the only places that you and your friends want to go, are located in areas where there is NO PARKING and you have to find parking on some back alley or do "creative" parking - like parking just past the sign that is marked "No Parking ---> This Way Between 4-7 pm" claiming later when you get the ticket, "Well, half of my car was in the safe parking zone, doesn't that count?"

So I drove around. And around. I finally called Oppa out of desperation.

"Oppa, I am on Pennsylvania Avenue and I can't find parking anywhere."

"Uh? It's a holiday, EJ - you should be able to find parking easily. I suggest you try to park around the mall," my brother said over the phone, "How long are you here for? Will you call to have dinner with me and Esther later?"

"I'll try, I don't know how long I'll be here. I am checking out that new art exhibit at the National Portrait Gallery. I'll call you later regardless, though."

After driving around several times in a square-shaped circle, and finding absolutely no free parking spaces, I finally gave in and turned into the nearest "Parking Garage Here" sign I saw. Thankfully it was at the International Trade Center, where they are equipped to deal with idiots like me who for the life of me even though the parking lot probably has fifty-seven signs showing me that I parked on C-2, when I finally go to get back to my car, I walk around aimlessly for fifty minutes, going on every single level and not having a damned clue where I parked.

But this parking lot was awesome. Instead of numbers, it had countries to designate what floor you parked on. How could I forget that I parked on Floor Russia? I could easily forget something arbitrary like C-3 or D-4, but Russia? Hell no. I'll remember that sucker.

I finally met up with LP2 after walking to the wrong damned gallery and having to turn around. There was some kind of mad-hatter accident or something, and halfway along my walk they had to detour across three more blocks just to get to a block I was originally only a few steps away from. Bah.

But ReCoGnIzE! was awesome. One of the most amazing things were the paintings by Kehinde Wiley. Absolutely off-the-CHAIN! Take a portrait of Napoleon, add a little Ice-T to the mix, and Boom! What a masterpiece. The depth of the colors and the shadows, and just the entire composition was breath-taking, and something that I can't wait to go back to and check out again (I am going again in March if anyone is interested).

LP2 and I had a great time, overall. We perused the gift shop, and gave in to temptation by purchasing the photo booklet of the exhibit (It was only $10!!! C'mon!!) and then headed towards Chinatown to pick up some grub.

That was around the time that it started to rain. And LP2, being the street-stepper and "urban-dweller" that she is, came prepared with an umbrella. My stupid ass, had not.

So after grabbing some grub and some MUCH NEEDED intelligent conversation (LP2, you astound me with your little book of what you have to do's and whatnots, you go girl!) we escaped over to Urban Outfitters so I could buy a hat to shield me from the rain.)

While there, we started talking about music. Mainly because when we first walked into the store, LP2 remarked that the singer they had playing in the background sounded like Rachel Yamagata. Which is exactly what I thought to. And then we started to say, I can't believe you know that person, and oh my gosh, yes, I have my MP3 player right here with me, let's stand in front of the aisle and play music for each other despite people walking all around us!!!

Good times, I tell you.

Alas, the day had to come to a close, and LP2 gave me a big hug and off I went to go and try to find the International Trade Center. Remember how I mentioned that I would not forget what floor I parked on? Well, I didn't, I wouldn't have lied to you. But what I did manage to forget, or rather, lose somehow was my parking ticket. And with that, my ability to find my sense of direction as to where I had come from in the first place. Fantastic. I spent an hour just walking in the rain, asking mothers ushering their children under big umbrellas, "Which way to 13th St?" and men who were jogging with their visors on to catch the raindrops, "Do you know how far it is to Pennsylvania Ave from here?" Thank God people in DC tend to be pretty friendly.

Thanks for making my day off an exciting one, LP2, and we'll definitely have to do this again, real soon.

I promise to have more posts up soon, particularly two involving a special person's birthday, and a "terrible schmelting accident".

The Closest Thing

2008-02-14T16:07:00.002-05:00

Today is Valentine's Day - or what I like to call - "Hallmark Holiday" Day. You know what I'm talking about, all the guilt of "not loving your lover enough" starts to sink in and you're programmed through subliminal commercials on TV and radio to feel that the only way to rectify your horrible relationship is by thrusting your checkbook into the hands of luring retail owners for large quantities of chocolates, red roses and whatever else is red, overly sweet and disgustingly adorable.

Sounds like fun to me, too. (Sarcasm Alert!)

But alas, I figured I would write about something recent that is the closest thing to the theme of Valentine's Day. (As I speak, I have about three posts sitting in my queue, begging to be finished. Soon, soon, soon my dear half-written darlings.)

On Sunday night, I spent the first half of the evening at Blue Ryder's, being sucked into the vortex that is PS3 all weekend long. Mostly because, when the need to rock is screaming your name, you basically have no choice but to answer the call. So I did what any other bitchin' ass rocker would do - I rocked the fuck out. (Thanks again, guys! ;-))

The only slight problem was that I had promised a date with my brother and sister the same day. I hadn't seen them in months, which is highly unusual, but the main reason for that is I no longer hang out the same way that they do. It has been really difficult for me juggling the feelings that I have had inside for the past two months. I really love my brother and my sister tremendously, but I really cannot stand to be in the club atmosphere for more than two hours at a time anymore. Yet the only time that my brother and sister go out is ...well, at night. Underneath flourescent lighting and laser beams. So I've been torn.

I had been putting the date off each hour, every hour that I felt engrossed in my moonlighting career as a rockstar. That is, until I realized it was almost 6 o' clock at night. And with a slight bittersweetness, I left Blue Ryder's house to head to the DC/VA area for dinner.

As much as halfway there I began to feel the heaviness of my eyelids, I was really quite thrilled. One, because it's a Sunday, and that is my brother and sister's rest day, meaning, they just rest up from their prior engagement (club-going) the night before. Two, because our plan was to go out to dinner and eat. You know, no flourescent lighting. No laser beams. No DnB music plummeling nails into my brain. Just me, my oppa, my unni, a table and food. YAY!

Once I got there, I climbed into the back of Oppa's car and we headed out to Momo Sushi & Cafe in Old Towne Alexandria. Okay, so originally we had plans to head somewhere else for sushi, but they were closed...and boy am I glad!

Mostly because I hadn't ever heard of Momo before, but Oppa insisted that it was by far, the best sushi he had ever tasted and I should really try it out.

I have to say, it was the most amazing sushi that I have ever had. EVER. The taste was so fresh, and so quenching that I couldn't get enough. I am not a particular fan of sashimi but this stuff was sooo good that I tried every type of sushi that we chose off the menu. And their volcano rolls were out of this world!

I really do think that great food correllates with great conversation and also goes along with great company. Momo is quite small, but apparently Oppa and Unni have eaten there a THOUSAND times, because the owner came up to us directly, and said she would give us a table as soon as one opened up while we sat at the sushi bar.

We ate miso soup, and a salad with this bombastic dressing, I have no idea what was in that but it was amazing, whatever it was. And then shrimp tempura before the sushi. All the while we just kept talking and eating, and eating and talking. I really miss being able to do that with them as often.

Unni kept saying all night long how it was great to finally see me as opposed to squinting through the darkness of a club to talk to my silouette.

I told her it was great to finally see them, too. And it was.

It is such a great feeling to be around people where the puzzle pieces finally just fit. Blue Ryder, Oppa, Unni, and everyone else in my life have totally caught me in a place where everything just fits so nicely. Even if my puzzle piece is misshapen sometimes.

What Does My Birth Date Mean?

2008-02-12T12:38:00.000-05:00

Really now, I am not all into these damned surveys about trying to figure out what this means and that means - unless I am at work with nothing to do (heh, heh, heh)...on my lunch break! (See how I recovered that?)

I was on Facebook reading my friend Eva's reviews on food when I saw that I had like fifty invitations to try this quiz to find out what my birth date means. Now for those of you with Facebook, you'll understand what I mean by fifty invitations. I really do mean fifty. Fifty-seven to be exact.

So I went on, and tried the application. It was pretty damn interesting and really on point. I have absolutely no idea how it works or how it generates the answers. All you do is plug in your birthdate and all this information pops up. Here's what it had to say:

Independent and free-willed, you tend to be the alpha dog in most situations. Its your confidence which pulls you through the difficult times and take you ultimately to the time. You are not born to carry out life's mundane tasks, you are meant for the bigger things in life. You are creative. Sometimes people dont understand you, but you take that in your stride.

Your greatest strength is: your ability to gain respect.

Your greatest weakness is: caring too much what others think.

Your lucky color is: orange-red.

I don't know about my greatest strength being able to gain respect. I think that's pretty subjective depending on who you talk to. But in terms of the About Me section it is pretty on point. I don't really like to carry out mundane tasks and I try to be creative. I know a lot people tend to not be able to understand me, but that is totally okay. I don't really take offense to it - unless they say something hurtful or disrespectful.

My FAVORITE colors are orange and green. That's pretty awesome that it is my lucky color. And as for the greatest weakness that is DEFINITELY on point, Jesus. Anyone who knows me knows that I think way too much about what other people think, particularly my family. Which is funny...I guess being able to not be understood and then worrying about what people think are quite an oxymoronic (is that a word? psh...it is now!) pair when you put them together. But then again, that's just me: one big ass oxymoron.

I Rock'd The Vote!!!

2008-02-12T07:47:00.001-05:00

At the butt crack of dawn (3:30 AM, on the dot), I woke up this morning feeling rather sleepy. After a quick yawn and a poke of my head over the covers to see the time on my cell, I made the executive decision to go back to sleep and skip the usual workout (*gasp!* I know).

Before I knew it, I was back in la-la-la land and within two hours, I woke up again to the sounds of my TV, the newscasters reporting from some middle school in downtown Baltimore. Something about...voting...

Oh yeah! I thought, today is ELECTION PRIMARIES!!!!!!

I know that sounds super gooberish but that's exactly how it was. I jumped out of bed, slipped into the shower, pulled on my thickest pair of leggings to wear under my pants (because not only had the newscasters reminded me to vote, but they also announced that it was fuh-reeeezing out) and a sweater and off I went.

Why was I so excited to vote this year? Because this is technically my first year voting. I know, I know... I am 22. I should have a solid 5 years of voting under my belt. But sadly, no. I just got the new voter card for when I moved to Dundalk last year, and beyond that, well...no one really caught my voting attention.

Last election, I didn't want John Kerry. I most certainly didn't want George Bush. I just wasn't feeling that "Get Out and Vote!" kinda vibe.

But this year was different. Maybe it was the fact that I hit my twenties that I suddenly took on a more proactive responsibility towards my politic standpoints. Or maybe I was just curious. Whatever it was, I started investigating all the candidates, and all of the past candidates, and how I compared with their views. Throughout all the readings, the surveys, the endless hours searching the Web, I found that my views point more to a Democrat point-of-view.

So that's when I registered. Last June.

And today was my first real day of actually voting. Placing my little voters card into the machine and going to town.

And you know what? I felt really good after I had. I think it's ridiculous to say that your one vote won't make a difference, because it certainly will. It might just turn out to be the one vote that could change this election completely, you never know.

My name is The Brave - and I Rock'd The Vote today! Have you?

Thirteen Going On 13-Months

2008-02-05T22:01:00.000-05:00

Today, I found out that no matter how many times I kept rubbing my eyes and blinking them open (oh, how those movies lie!) my sister hadn't remained the same kid she was just 12 years before. In fact, to my unpleasant surprise (yes, I kept thinking that if I kept blinking like a neurotic imbisile that it might just actually work) my sister hadn't even remained the same pre-teen that she was the day before. This is to you, my dear sister, on the most transforming day/part/chapter of your life that has catapulted you into a whole new journey of becoming a young woman : your thirteenth birthday.

I can remember the first day that you arrived from China like the back of my hand. I even remember what I was wearing, how I had spent pain-staking hour by hour the night before, choosing the right outfit to welcome my new baby sister into our family. (Apparently, my outfit of choice was a Calvin Klein jean dress and a red bandana colored headband. What can I say, sis, I wasn't as fashion forward as we'd all like to admit 12 years ago.)

You looked so incredibly frightened and yet so incredibly strong all at the same time as I watched Dad walk off the plane. I had never seen so much sorrow, pain, darkness and fear trapped within the lines of a soft cherub face. Your skin was so pale, speckled with red dots of scabies that made your cheeks appear to have a permanent flush. It wasn't until we got you home, after hours of intense screaming on your part, (quite understandably out of fear from being in a foreign country, in a foreign house, around foreign people speaking a foreign tongue) while giving you your first real bath that we saw the scabies were all over your distended stomach and your little legs and arms.

But in that night, although you seemed so incredibly frail and scared, I could see in you an amazing strength and light deep in your eyes. I just felt it when I held you. You and I became true sisters that night. It might have been sparked by the fact that you would not let anyone else but me near you for the next three months, but eventually it transformed into this bonding relationship and learning experience that I thank you so much for. I thank you for choosing me to be your rock, your comfort and your closeness for those first months.

Even though I struggled to hold your 13-month old frame in my arms, being only 9 years older than you myself, I would rock you back and forth shifting the weight from my left side to the right side all the while keeping my arms wrapped tightly around your body. You refused to let me sit down in the rocking chair in your nursery as long as your eyes were wide awake, which was almost always until 3 am, when my arms had long since started tingling from numbness and my legs and knees ached with the weight. Every so often I would sneak closer to the crib bar, leaning my body against it ever so slightly, tilting my head to the side to see if your head was really beginning to droop against my shoulder. As soon as I'd feel the deadweight of your head lying against my shoulder in deep slumber, it would be right then that I'd try to find a clear window of freedom to lay you gently into your crib. This could prove to be one of two things: extremely successful or an incredibly horrible attempt gone crazywild wrong. It usually was the second one.

As time went on, you felt more comfortable allowing people into your "zone": the area that you played in, the area that you ate in, the person who held you while you drank your bottle, the person you let get close enough to you to give you a bath...as your stay with us grew longer and longer, you no longer felt the need to hold me as a security blanket in all your activities. Except when you became extremely sick and dehydrated. Mom had tried to feed you Pedialyte in your baby bottle, hoping to get some electrolytes into your system to calm your tears and your fevers, but you would have none of this. Much like you have grown to be now, you were incredibly stubborn, and very quiet about it as well. You would just push the bottle away from your lips, even if you looked as if you really wanted it - unless it was me holding the bottle, of course.

Soon, you learned that Mom could just as easily, if not more efficiently, calm your fears, feed you, change you, and be there as much as I was. It seemed that everything was gradually following a new routine, and that you were now beginning to form the bond with Mom that she had desperately wanted to have with you from the start.

Until the blanket of darkness that came with the night.

It was the first night that Mom and I had decided to let her put you to bed. I had coached her the entire day with all of the little quirks that you had taught me in helping me put you to bed. To hold one arm under your butt and rub your back in circular motions, and how every once in a while you loved to feel the tips of my fingers gently rub along your adorable little toes as they curled and I could feel your chest heave a deep and relaxing sigh. How you only liked one tape of lullabies called "Sleep Sound in Jesus". You would make me play it over and over again - immediately starting right after your bath when I would press my face into your sweet fresh smelling skin to make you giggle. Eventually, I would let the tape side run out and just continue singing the songs that you and I both knew by heart, lying you into your crib and rubbing my hand along your back and against your cheek.

This one was your favorite lullaby, I explained to Mom:

Sleep sound in Jesus, my baby, my dear

We're keeping watch, so there's nothing to fear

As I lay you down in your bed tonight

Sleep sound in Jesus till morning is light.

So that night, as I uncharacteristically climbed the stairs to my bedroom at an actual decent hour, instead of crawling into the comfort of my own bed with exhaustion, I stopped at the top of the stairs and closed my eyes. I waited as I heard Mom's voice cooing with you outside of the bathroom. I listened intently to make sure that she turned on your lullaby music just as you liked it. And then I went through our night ritual in my mind, hoping that Mom had paid attention to the instructions I had given her. Hoping that you wouldn't cry for her.

And you didn't. In fact, as she walked into her bedroom, and I hung over the railing asking her repeatedly how it went, she said that you fell asleep like a little angel. And as much as I felt a sigh of relief that Mom was finally beginning to bond with you finally, there was a part of me that felt a little sad, knowing that soon, you wouldn't need me at all. I feared we wouldn't be as close ever again. I tried to wipe out my fears as I climbed into my bed and fell asleep.

At around 3 am, I began to toss and turn across my bed when I suddenly felt my foot hit something at the foot of the bed. I knew that I hadn't put any of my babydolls or my pillows there, so I couldn't imagine what I had hit. I immediately sat up in bed and blinked hard in the darkness, forcing my eyes to focus and adjust. That was when I saw you. Sleeping in the fetal position, at the foot of my bed.

My heart pounded with a bit of sadness and joy all at the same time. I crawled out of the sheets and grabbed your small frame from around your belly and pulled you underneath my covers with me - and you nestled your face into my pillow and pulled me closer to you as you slept.

We certainly don't sleep in the same bed anymore. We don't even talk as much as I'd like us to, mostly because you have found that girls your own age and our brother who is closer in age to you than me are better conversationalists when it comes to the latest manga of Naruto or who scored what goal in last Saturday's soccer game.

I had always envisioned that I would be all of the big sister to you as I had always wanted when I was your age. But I realize as you have hit age thirteen that we are total polar opposites with only common interests here and there. You must look at me as the embarrassing older sister who sits for hours on YouTube.com watching old 80's music videos and singing along at the top of my lungs versus me wanting to be the cool big sister that you look up to, and feel comfortable coming to about anything.

I hope that no matter what happens between us, even though we don't talk every day, that when I say "I love you" I really mean it from the deepest and most bottom-est part of my heart. And that when I hug you and kiss your cheek, that I still feel that same strength and light that I felt 12 years ago when I held you in the middle of the night to save you from the nightmares. There is no doubt in my mind that you will grow to be the most amazing, intelligent and perservering young woman and individual. Welcome to the rest of your life, my dear little sister. There will be highs as bright as the sunrising in the horizon on a beautiful summer day of endless possibilities and there will be lows as dark and rainy as a night filled with endless clasping thunderstorms, and loneliness sometimes that will nibble away so achingly at every last bit of your heart till you think you can't take it anymore. But I will always be here for you. To help you up when you make your biggest mistakes, and encourage you even further when you accomplish all of your goals.

Happy Birthday, Nate-Gate! I love you!

-your Big Sis, The Brave

My Love Note To Always Half-Asleep

2008-02-04T13:44:00.000-05:00

This is my love note to the author of "Always Half-Asleep.

I know that I promised earlier that I would write further about the CDs that you sent me, and about how I'd been listening to each CD over and over again but I just hadn't gotten to it yet. Mainly because I haven't been able to really listen to all of them in their entireties yet.

And I still haven't.

I have only gone through maybe three or four of your mixes, but I just had to finally write something to you today.

Why? Because I love you, seriously. It's like we're kindred music spirits, or long-lost music Wonder Twins that just needed to finally come together. Okay, let me elaborate on my gooberness:

When you first sent me the said CDs, I was going through my hair loss and a lot of self-esteem changes. I was so excited to receive your package thinking I was only going to get two CDs of your music, when lo and behold, there were like ten or so! The first CD that I popped into my player was "Light of the Moon" I believe. And then came "Sunrise" and then "Dying". I listened to them, and initially gravitated towards the songs that at first listen, caught my attention. And I'd play them over and over again. I uploaded them into my iPod so I could keep listening to them over and over again at work.

There were songs on the first three or so CDs that made me cry, made me laugh, and made me feel whole again. I am not kidding. Your CDs in every way imaginable, all the music, it just moved me, got me feeling happier, wanting to keep listening to the song over and over again like an addict, hoping to keep getting the happy feeling each time I listened to it, and I did.

Then I popped in more. I can't even remember some of the names of the CDs that you labeled, but I would just pop them into my CD player in my car and listen to them as I drove. That's when my love for you and your freakin' amazing music taste really blossomed.

Whether I was driving to something happy, or driving from something incredibly sad, or just plain confused and driving to no particular place at all, somehow, the music just...said whatever I felt. How retarded it must sound now to admit that I would be on 95 at 3 AM in the morning, with tears in my eyes, singing along to a song that just said everything that I wasn't able to say and more.

Last night was no different. I was just headed over to my parents' place to cook them dinner (I have been in the practice of making some bomb-ass spring rolls) and listening to one of your CDs (I don't even know what the label was) and two songs came on during my drive that just hit me precisely where I was at this point, and how I felt.

I had tears in my eyes as I kept listening to those two songs over and over again to my ride there, and my ride back home later in the evening. And as much as the reason for them making me cry and what it reminded me of is sad, and somewhat depressing, being able to have something facilitate the tears and let them flow was an amazing release for me. The songs didn't make all the pain go away, or make all of the problems disappear, but they certainly helped therapeutically in letting me release a lot of emotions I didn't even realize I had pent up inside.

So here is to you, Always Half-Asleep, for helping me find a deeper love and appreciation for music again, and for encouraging me (even though you probably didn't mean to) to remember that it's totally healthy and okay to let go of some tears once in a while. XOXO

I'd like to thank the Pre-Med student who came up with the "red-eye" coffee...

2008-02-01T07:41:00.000-05:00

I know, I know... I first off want to go ahead and apologize for not being as diligent with this blog as I used to be, or how I'd like to be - this being partly because A. I am slightly lazy whenever I am home and B. I am rarely ever home after doing school/work/homework/workout/craziness and when I am home, I'd like some peace and quiet, plop myself in front of the television and have guilt-free junk food snacking for hours on end. If I start to feel guilty about the horrible things I am shoving into my digestive system and by digestive system I mean my clogged arteries, I do Sudoku puzzles in order to fulfill what I think of as "brain enhancement exercises".

Life has been incredibly on-going in the past few weeks. I can't collectively say that I've been "stressed", possibly because all of it has been "good" stress, whatever the hell that is. I think that just means that even though you're pressured to do 9,999,999 million things in a millisecond and you're perspiring hotter than a 500 T man, well...at the end of the day, you wouldn't have it any other way.

And right now, that's exactly where I am. Save for a few things here and there. Between work and school, I have little room for anything else, but I am super driven. And I love that that part of me has kicked in again. I always felt like I was able to accomplish a hell of a lot more as a high schooler because I was so completely driven by my future, but then I hit a few bumps in the road (Okay, who am I kidding? What I hit were more like gargantuan super-glaciers that had huge pointy icicles hanging off of them, all ironically aimed at me and artfully poised and ready for my demise.) and life began really really sucking.

I don't know what happened to tell you the truth. To this day, when I look back and I think about how I was, my thought process was, and then all the events that have happened between then and now, I have no particular one thing that I can look back at with a stern pointed finger and go: "AH HA! You ARE the WEAKEST LINK!" Because I think in the end, it all played a part, and it all made a difference in the successes and short-comings that have led me to the place that I am now.

But in the past few weeks, what with the new promotion at work (which I never saw coming) and school starting, my focus has been completely and utterly intent on actually succeeding in all the goals I was afraid of before (for whatever reasons). Does that mean I am not still afraid? Hell fucking no. I am readily prepared with plenty of adult diapers for the numerous times I feel the urgent need to pee myself out of sheer fear of all the choices, decisions and life paths I have to make. But what has changed is that I feel I am better equipped to just dry myself off, put on another adult diaper, and keep on trucking. I don't think I'll ever stop being scared shitless or be able to say I don't feel crappy every once in awhile, I am just better prepared for the aftermath that comes with it.

I am really getting down the nitty gritty this year. I'm not just trying to bullshit my way out of this one - I know my ass better work hard to get to where I need to go to be where I want to be. And I figure there have been so many amazing people that I have met in my (short) lifetime thus far that have seemed to have the confidence in me that I could accomplish whatever I set my mind to, so it's about damned time I have confidence in myself.

The Resurrection of the Internet

2008-01-17T11:14:00.000-05:00

So I learned last night while walking down the pathway to my place that the Internet has now been rerouted. This time there is a pass code though. Which is good, I agree, for safety reasons, etc. etc. (Because I really would hate to think people were trying to steal all the porn on my hard drive.)

I didn't, however, get the passcode just yet. I didn't get home until around 10 pm or later, having spent the night eating dinner at my parents' house and catching up with my siblings that I don't get to see much of anymore. It's weird how going back, you realize how fast your siblings are growing, and how their internal worlds are spinning just as fast as yours is.

My sister is on her way to being the next "musical prodigy" (aka J's little brother). I went home last night to find her tapping away at piano keys, all self-taught. Hammering out tunes such as "Over My Head" by the Fray, "It Ends Tonight" by All-American Rejects and "Apologize" by OneRepublic. It amazes me how fast she is growing, and I can't get over how much of a teenager she is starting to look(she turns 13 in February). Sorta freaks me out and stings a little. I guess because I have that big sister complex, wanting them to stay little forever. I am so proud of who she is becoming though, and love her deeply.

My little brother is also hitting a milestone age this year, the big 1-8. I don't have anything bad to say. He's become everything that anyone could've ever asked for and more. I love him to death, and he is an amazing spark in my life, and one of my closest confidants. We grew up together, only 5 years apart, but I still see him as my baby brother. I told him I'd take him wherever he wanted to go this year. Now that I have my car, we can wreck havoc across the city together in celebration of his birthday. He deserves a little fun with everything he's been through.

So now that the internet is back up, you all will get an overload of posts with pictures that have been long overdue. Something to take up my time in my free moments over the weekend (ha, ha, ha)

Vocabulary Junkies & Humanitarians Behold!

2008-01-11T07:45:00.000-05:00

There is now a place for you to mingle, fraternize, commix, etc., etc.

I stole this from a girl who posted in this Women's group that LP had me join with her. I only stole it because hey, this is the kind of thing that needs to be spread about as fast as possible, and what an amazing and ingenious idea it is.

The site is called FreeRice.com. The premise? Elementary, my dear Watsons and Watson-ettes! Do you find yourself using an extremely large amount of SAT vocabulary and having no one to talk to? Or do you just have a plethera of SAT vocab words clinging to the tiny particles in your brain and have no where to put them to good use? Well my friends, now you can not only display your excellent vocab skills, but you can also be a humanitarian at the same time.

The peeps at FreeRice.com have created a site that for every vocabulary word definition you score right, 20 grains of rice will be sent through the United Nations to starving families every where. The fight to end poverty ends right in the pages of your dictionary, folks.

Not only does it supply non-English speaking immigrants with a great site to help them learn new words, but hell, I've been in this country for 22 years and I have been having some slight difficulty on getting the right answer on some of those words.

And you might think that 20 grains of rice are pretty sparse for each word you get right but think of it this way - you know how you start playing Gold Digger and just can't stop yourself? This is how addictive this is, if you're a vocab fan like I am, of course. In a matter of about five minutes, I had "donated" 340 grains of rice. Wow. Not only does this thing make me feel smart, but I actually feel great for being a part of something truly awesome.

So check it out. :-)

Being Sick

2008-01-08T15:25:00.001-05:00

I have had this "cold" off and on since the beginning of the year. Well, okay, I had a slight fever on the 2nd of the month, and then it went away.

But starting Sunday, I gained this lovely sex-phone operator's voice that I currently possess, and cannot shake. I know that the infection is gone. I just had a sinus infection for a day or two and poof! It is gone today.

This cough is just getting a little bit on my nerves. I know I shouldn't complain, because as it stands, this is not the worst case that I have ever had. I remember being deathly sick when I was younger and this is certainly no where near that - but it does suck when the weather is so nice outside and I feel crummy inside.

I am just looking forward to the weekend, and actually, I know this sounds weird - but purchasing my books for this semester is getting me pretty perky. Mainly because I chose semi-easy classes this semester (*knock on wood*) to accompany my Chemistry 107 class. (which by the way is requiring yet ANOTHER chemistry textbook, of course they couldn't be nice and use the textbook I used just LAST semester for this semester. Of course not.)

This year I am learning to be smarter about the book buying thing though. I am going to finally use this Amazon.com thing that everyone has been raving about to me all these years. See if I can get a discount. And then get reimbursed with my book credit later on. I have a lot of schooling ahead of me and might as well scrimp and save where I can.

No Internet Is a Bitch!

2008-01-07T11:37:00.000-05:00

So I have been M.I.A. for a bit, no pics, no blog posts, no anything.

Reason? No internet at home. Some jackass hacked into my roommate's internet and started messing with all his systems and shit.

So now I don't have internet, and blog posting isn't as fun as it should be.

I promise that once the internet gets fixed (if it ever gets fixed) you guys will be the first to get the load of pictures that I owe you.

Resolution #2

2007-12-31T13:10:00.000-05:00

So The Seed & TL have been working on this magnificent, fantastic, phenomenal, earth-shattering end all, be all soundtrack. And after talking to TL at great lengths last night about music, I have come to my 2nd resolution for the year 2008:

Revisit all my old albums.

When I say 'revisit', I mean that I want to grab my big ass black case of CDs, and prop it next to my bed, and listen to every single one of them. (Some of the albums I have I removed from my iPod awhile back when I started a phase of being selectively moody and extremely picky of which songs would "make the cut")

TL and I were talking about how every single time you revisit a song, you know it's a fantastic one because each time you listen, there's another meaning than the one you previously thought was there. They might both be there - but you suddenly have a whole new appreciation for the song that you'd never had before.

I felt that way about Coldplay, Radiohead, Frou Frou, Imogen Heap, and Paula Cole (among some others) the very first time I heard them.

I remember listening to "Tiger"(from Paula Cole's 'This Fire') at age 13, and sitting there, listening to this grown woman scream and curse, and yell at the top of her lungs. It was raunchy, it was raw, it was dirty, it was sexy, it was annoying, it was frightening, it was inspiring, and it was melodic...all at the same time. It was way too many emotions to take in at one time, and although there was a quality in her voice and melodies that attracted me, I remember thinking after the track had ended that I was leaning towards not liking it very much.

I came back to the track 2 years later, this time it was late at night, and I just popped any old CD into my CD player out of the pile on the floor and it turned out to be 'This Fire'. Suddenly, "Tiger" starts playing and the lyrics immediately pop out at me...I remember thinking, Holy Shit! This is crazy great stuff right here!

"I've left Bethlehem and I feel free, I've left the girl I was supposed to be and someday I'll be born..."

Oh. my. goodness. That's all I have to say. And where before, her screaming towards the end of the song had frightened me, the second time I heard it, it was the best fucking part of the song. It was affirmation that no one was holding her down, no one was going to force her to fit anyone's mold, and she was finally finding who she was, and who it was she wanted to be, regardless of what people thought. That's exactly how I was feeling around that time - and still do.

Sooo, if you see me at a stop light one of these days or rolling through your neighborhood, don't be too surprised to see the windows down and me screaming "High and Noon!!!" like a possessed crazy ass. I'm just 'revisiting' my albums.

I'm a spaz and not ashamed to say it.

2007-12-28T12:12:00.001-05:00

This year has been one of the most interesting years for me yet. Personally, speaking, that is. I feel like I have a done a lot of spiritual and emotional growth in 2007, and have come to terms with who I am a helluva lot better than I have in past years.

For instance, I am a complete spaz. How do I know this? Because secretly, I have begun to stress over everything. And when I say secretly, I mean that I am a closet spaz. The kind of person that looks cool as a cucumber from the outside - the girl who says things like, "ohh, I am not worried one bit!" with a reassuring laugh, or "I don't give a damn!" with defiance and consternation when really inside I am like a Jenga game missing a dozen or so of my sturdy pieces and about ready to collapse at any time.

Does it mean I am crazy? I don't know, for sure. I think it makes me a lot more sane, to be quite honest. I think anyone who says they don't care about something is probably trying to hide the fact that they are deathly worried about something else. I just admitted to myself this year that I most definitely worry about way too much.

And this isn't zoned to any particular thing, or part of my life. My spazziness holds no boundaries and no prejudice. And it's not that I worry every single second of my life because then I would definitely go insane, but I guess I am talking about those specific times where I find myself feeling trapped, and with an acute case of butterflies fluttering wildly in my stomach. Those are the times that I wish I was more like my high school teenage self. I think I handled stress a lot better when I was younger, which is unusually the opposite of what most people say. I have heard that stress management gets better as you get older but for me, I've become a lot more lop-sided on this issue of "stress management".

I think because I found the definition of "worthiness" to have a lot more credibility than when I was younger. I didn't really have people I cared about or who cared about me in my nearest surroundings like I do now. There's more at risk if something goes wrong, or if I don't feel like I am measuring up to my own standards.

Anyways, for New Year's, resolution #1 is to not be such a spaz. This is a tricky one. I don't want to QUIT worrying completely because then I run the risk of becoming a complete asshole. (Who wants that?) I think the resolution more specifically is that I just want to learn how to pick my worrying battles. Pick the ones I know are worth the worry, and shed the other ones away. Stress is great, and an awesome character builder and I don't ever want to push it out of my way - just shave a little bit off of the sides here and there. That's Resolution #1, so far. The rest are more to come as I think of them.

Something to tide you (me) over...

2007-12-26T15:14:00.000-05:00

I haven't blogged as well as I'd like to recently. Haven't had as much time to lolly-gag as I would have thought around the holiday season.

But in the meantime, let me share with you a track that I have been falling in love with as I've hit the road to visit with family and friends over the past few weeks. If you listen closely to the track or read the lyrics carefully - there is a little bit of everyone between the lines.

No I'm not color blind, I know the world is black and white.
Try to keep an open mind, but I just can't sleep on this tonight.
Stop this train, I wanna get off and go home again
I can't take the speed it's moving in
I know I can, but honestly - won't someone stop this train?

Don't know how else to say it, don't wanna see my parents go
One generation length's away
for fighting life out on my own
Stop this train I wanna get off and go home again
I can't take the speed its moving in
I know I can, but honestly - won't someone stop this train?

So scared of getting older, I'm only good at being young.
So I play the numbers game to find a way to say that life has just begun
Had a talk with my old man, said help me understand
he said turn 68, you'll renegotiate...
don't stop this train,
don't for a minute change the place your in
don't think I couldn't ever understand
I tried my hand,
John honestly, we'll never stop this train...

Once in awhile, when it's good
It'll feel like it should
And they're all still around
And you're still safe and sound
And you don't miss a thing
Till you cry when you're driving away in the dark
Singing...

Stop this train
I wanna get off
And go home again
I can't take the speed it's moving in
I know I can
Cause now I see I will never stop this train

DAY ONE: Getting off my lazy ass

2007-12-18T16:49:00.000-05:00

Please don't ask me why, but for some reason (and thank goodness for whatever it was) in the early peaks of sunlight this morning, while slipping my body away from the comfort of the warm covers to enter the sharp cold air of my bedroom, I hit an epiphany.

EJ, my subconscious whispered to me in my sleepy stupor, you should pack work-out clothes for lunch time.

Thus, for whatever Force possessed me, I walked out of the house this morning with the now unfamiliar feeling of my gym bag strap pressing diagonally against my chest. Contents: A bottle of water, gym sneakers, my comfy Puma black track pants, and matching tank and some sport socks.

I don't know why I thought today would be a good day to start back at the gym, but in the end, I am glad that I did.

Once 11:45 am rolled around, I glanced at the clock, hoping that somehow it'd motivate me to get my lazy ass up off the chair. And then I made the announcement to my coworker over in the next cubicle (Anyone who has ever worked in a cubicle environment understands that there somehow or other is an unspoken bond between you and one of the cubicle mates around you, mine just happens to be right next to me.) that I was to go to the gym.

"Really?! Are you joking? The gym?!" she exclaimed.

Her tone embarrassed me. Okay, okay, people, I've been slacking. Hardcore. But it felt like with my hair, also went my energy. That's not the case now, but it was at one point.

"Yeees," I answered slowly, "yes, I plan to go to the gym in the next few minutes."

"It's been a couple months since you've been hasn't it?"

Wow, okay. Even worse when someone other than John Basedow, Jr. notices and makes comment of you not having gone to the gym in a while. The scene and motivation was set now. I was committed. I had to go to the gym now to prove all these people I could. That, and prove to myself.

I walked into the familiar sights, sounds and smells of the gym. Walked into the dressing room and was immediately greeted by a familiar face. When I used to work out everyday before I lost the hair, I had become friends with a lot of people I'd see everyday there. The workers, the gym-goers, everyone. But particularly this lady, A. She works in my building actually, and is absolutely the sweetest person you want to meet. When I first met her, she had told me she started going to the gym to get back into shape. She was probably the most committed, and determined person out of all the people at the gym, besides the older lady that I always see that looks tighter than the Abs Made Simple video.

She asked me where I had been since it'd been awhile since she had seen me.

I explained to her that I had taken a little hiatus from working out - mostly from depression and sadness in the beginning, but in the end, it turned out all right - leading to a peaceful inner me and a better handle on my inner strength and capabilities. All the fun stuff you've been reading about here.

Once I began to tell her about the alopecia, I removed my ski hat to reveal my shaved head.

"Well, it looks great," A said, "you have a beautiful face anyway."

"Thanks." (I never know what to say when people say this to me. I take to feeling the redness in my cheeks settle in and I smile and just nod my head and offer a quick, "thanks")

The rest of my workout went rather fast. I grabbed an elliptical and A grabbed one right next to mine. We talked about everything from Christmas shopping, to her by-pass surgery, to her new diet, to even trying to get her husband out for exercise. Within 45 minutes, we had both run about two miles a piece and didn't even feel like we had run anything at all.

"I am so glad that I ran into you today, EJ," A said, offering me a hug.

"No, no...hey, thank YOU for running into me here. My first day back went a helluva lot better than I expected because of you." And I meant it.

I am a full believer that things happen for a reason, and going there today and feeling like I was truly missed by people I wasn't even sure had acknowledged my existence every day at the gym before...it really helped to solidify all the reasons in my head that I had had about how good it was going to be getting back into working out again. I feel like a million bucks after that run, too.

I am so behind...

2007-12-17T12:51:00.000-05:00

I know, I know people... my birthday has gone and passed, and what's worse? Three people have blogged birthday wishes for me on my actual birthday... way before I even got to do the same thing!!

Blah, I will get to it eventually. 'Tis the season to keep your sanity cap on tightly, brave those massively packed mall corridors and purchase gifts for every Tom, Dick, Jane and Harry that you know (I know more guys than girls, what can I say?) and hurry your ass home so you can wrap them all up with nice paper and ribbon, etc., etc., etc...

It might sound like I am a bit "bah humbug-ish" but really, I do love this time of season sans the damn Christmas carols! I love going out and buying gifts for all my close friends and family, and wrapping them up, and then seeing the surprised faces and happy faces all over the place.

But this year is different. I am just not ready. At all. It's bad when John Basedow, Jr has totally and fully completed his X-mas shopping and I have still five or six people to buy for...that's bad. Why? Because I specifically remember several years being spent going out the day before X-mas to help him buy gifts for everyone. It was fun, but I was glad it was him that was behind and not me. And now, it's me. Revenge has reared its ugly, nasty head.

So I guess that's why this year's holidays hasn't been as pleasant as it should be for me. And it should be tons pleasant. Mainly because I can drive myself ANYWHERE and EVERYWHERE to go X-mas shopping. Which, might I add, I have been. I am loving it, and have grown to love driving more and more each day - except for parallel parking...that's not something I love at all.

Alas, though, I haven't forgotten to write about my birthday. I love all that were able to make it out to celebrate - it made my year to see all those happy faces. And a great big love to all those who couldn't, just 'cause you weren't there doesn't mean that I didn't feel your love in other ways this year. I have been completely blessed with everything that I have overcome this year - and all of the friendships that I have that have grown stronger, and new ones that I am excited are just beginning... and just all the wonderful growth that I feel that I have made for myself, personally - even though the times were tough and sometimes ugly - I feel that I have come out a better person, a more confident woman, and I am finally for the first time in my life loving almost everything about myself - and learning to accept the things about myself that I can't change and don't necessarily love all that much. And that's okay.

I promise, pictures, pictures people. I really promise. But hey, I am in a procrastinating mood recently. I just registered for class last night on my laptop in an oversized t-shirt that I got for free from the Irish Festival last year and my comfy brown robe with a cup of hot chocolate listening to the rain beat against my bedroom window... God, it felt so amazing to be lazy. But I knew I had to register soon or die. DIE, I tell you! I still have to go to school later on this week and argue the fact that my financial aid is not showing up on the system to cover my registration from being cancelled. Nothing ever works out like a piece of cherry pie for me... but that's what makes life so interesting with me.

I also promise, more thought provoking posts later on...I have been writing in my journal more and more, reunited my music roots back to John Mayer's "Any Given Thursday" and Radiohead's "Pablo Honey" and cried, and explored my inner workings... and have lots of mind-tittilating subjects that I have feasted my mind on to share with all of you.

***Quick Shout-out to Ms. PT & Jolee*** Thanks for "forcing" me out on Friday night, and "forcing" me to celebrate my belated birthday with you two, and "forcing" me to go to 1722 and talk with the meathead in the back lounge area so I could be your "guy friend" that night. Haha. Have fun in Taiwan, Ms. PT and Jolee, you know I am there for you no matter what.

Four Bucks and a 35 mph wind chill...

2007-12-04T12:59:00.000-05:00

So this morning I ran out of the house and forgot to pack a lunch. And then got to work and realized I only had four bucks on me. Rather than spend four bucks on something substantial (and let's face it, who here knows where I could get something "substantial" for four bucks? - Didn't think so.) I decided to go to the 4th level where there are vending machines.

Ahh yes, vending machines that hold to key to unhealthy living. All the unwanted fat and calories I could possibly ask for in just one package of self-dubbed "Homemade Grandma Cookies" or in "Fiery Habenero" Doritos which by the way comes in a bag no bigger than the palm of my hand and holds about the portion size of a 6-month old. (Doritos are my secret enemy. I LOOOOVEEEE Doritos. I have three bags at home hidden in a secret place for that certain someone who likes to come over to my house and chastise me for eating so much junk food. Take that, John Basedow, Jr!! :-))

I just finished my feast of Peanut Butter cookies, Cheese crackers with peanut butter filling, and Salt & Vinegar chips (I know it sounds disgusting right now but it felt soooo gooooood going down). To balance out the equation, rather than buy my regular binge drinking can of Grape soda, I opted for the 20 oz. bottle of Aquafina. That's right. I went for the 20 oz. Boo yah!

The wind is ridiculous near my building. Most likely because of the water, and how close we are to it - therefore when the winds pick up - they really pick up. Therefore, in the mornings, I grab the warmest clothes I can find. And seeing as I haven't got too many sweaters/long-sleeved shirts on hand (don't ask me but once I moved into Dumb-dalk I couldn't find half my winter or fall clothing that I once had) I tend to grab summer clothes and layer like a crazy woman.

But apparently this isn't good enough for the "semi-business casual corporate" world that I am in. Whatever that "Semi-business casual corporate" nonsense is. I got called in and told that what I was wearing yesterday was too casual and crossing the line. Not in detail, just that - that it was too casual. But this morning, it came upon someone to tell me in detail why specifically my outfit was too casual yesterday. Apparently - the "flannel" material, mixed with the attached "hood" was too casual. Flannel? What if I am cold? I had a decent shirt underneath but I was freezing in this office.

I was also told that my brown cords were "pushing it" that I had on today. Since when are cordoroys "pushing it" with the code? Do they want me to freeze my ass off and get the chills?

It was suggested to me that maybe I should go back and revisit the employee handbook for the dress code... I suddenly feel like I am back in Catholic middle school.

I Can Drive! I Can Drive!!

2007-12-03T13:50:00.000-05:00

Current Count:

Cons
1. slight minor bump into the side of the road, onto the curb, that I was afraid had ruined the alignment on my car.

2. Got lost a whole 3 times going to various places within the past week. Two of which I had to phone those I was headed to to get the final directions and find where exactly the hell I had found myself and the one time I was able to find my way home without any trouble at all - granted I don't know how I got where I eventually found myself, but the final result is that I made it home.

Pros
1. For one I have been able to visit friends I haven't seen in AGES. Which is always an awesome thing. I love seeing everyone, and catching up. It's nice.

2. Although J was sort of concerned that I might not be able to remember the way to Blockbuster in Timonium, or be able to navigate my way back - I insisted that I would be okay...and whatdoyaknow? I was perfectly fine! I had to drive all the way back York Rd to Towson to get onto Perring Pkwy and take the beltway there (because that's what I was familiar with even though I knew it was out of the way and a longer route) and I got home with no worries.

3. I drove all the way to DC!! Granted J was in the car with me, and I was following D - but still, I have to give it up to me, because going a little above the speed limit has freaked me out recently - due to the fact that I am just still getting used to driving again.

4. I drove BACK to Baltimore from LP's and D's house all by myself...following J... which I tell you, at 4 AM is not particularly easy. Especially cuz I was sleepy, tired, worn out from dancing, etc. But I made it. Although my parallel parking job was crooked, I could've cared less when I got home.

Now it's back to work - I have class tonight but I am soo exhausted. It's funny how just going out a few times in a weekend really wears you out to the core. I am so so so tired, and ready to take a 100-year nap.

PS. I went to LP's "Slumber Party" Saturday night - totally had a GREAT time...more on that later.

AND - I have decided that I want to register for AUTOCROSS this Spring! I told J that I am totally ready - and can't wait to go and have fun!!

Music I Love Driving To

2007-11-29T10:56:00.001-05:00

I have found that through my driving travels - there are certain types of music that just fit while driving that I love. The kind of music that fits perfectly with just cruising along the roads, whether it be during the day or late at night.

So I have dedicated this blog post to me writing down all the songs that I have fallen in love with again while being in my Corolla.

1. All 80's love ballads. Jeeeesus Christ, as corny and as goober as half of these songs are, the most brilliant song writing occurred in the 80's. Point blank and simple. I mean, c'mon... Spandau Ballet? Boy Meets Girl? Anyone?

2. RENT The Musical Soundtrack (Disc 1 and 2) I don't care who you are or what you think - this music is fantastic and I could sing "Light My Candle" till I am blue in the face.

2.5. Okay, you know what? I take the above statement back and replace it with ALL musical soundtracks. I'm sure the guy at the traffic light on Route 40 thought I was strange singing "Defying Gravity" at the top of my lungs with the windows down.

3. Justin Timberlake's "Justified". Particularly "Take A Ride" track. I LOVE that track!

4. Shivaree "Half On A Baby" (THANK YOU GOOSE~!!!!) If you like R. Kelly, this will make you think twice when you hear how f&cking awesome this girl sounds covering his song.

5. Jurassic 5 "Feedback" album. (Thank you to my favorite "black kid", Jos)

6. Ernie Halter's "Congress Hotel" - I think of his song "Love, Look At Me Now" as my eternal scream out to the world. I love his acoustic sound - and it's a nice raw melody to help keep time while you're on the road.

7. Amos Lee - Anything by Amos Lee. My God, one of the most serene things to do is to be moving - whether it be by bus, by car, by train, and to listen to Amos Lee at high levels - what a peaceful place to be in. I would always nestle into a corner of the train from DC to MD and listen to my Amos Lee playlist on my iPod over and over and over and over again.

8. John Mayer - "Heavier Things" The entire album. Particularly "New Deep".

9. Radiohead - ANYTHING. Ahhh, totally puts me in that zone. Thinking deep, feeling the music, and just me and the road.

10. Okay, K-Pop...alright? I'll admit, I still have my old H.O.T. CD, and my old G.O.D. CD - and yes, okay, I still listen to Brown Eyes and BoA. But I am totally stuck in the 90's when it comes to Korean music. The last album I bought was 5tion's first debut album...yes, I'm that behind with the Korean times.

Undecided

2007-11-28T12:52:00.000-05:00

I met up with a friend last night that I hadn't seen in a while. I had promised her a long time ago that I would have dinner with her, and see her new apartment but I just had never gotten around to it (partly due to the transportation issues).

So at around 6:40pm I headed out to meet her and a few of her friends at XS on N. Charles Street for dinner.

It was fun finally being able to get to where I wanted to go, and be able to leave the house when I wanted - except when it came time to find a parking spot. I ended up paying $10.00 (yes, 10 whole dollars) to park in a garage over on Cathedral Street and walk the two blocks up Preston to where it met Charles. I conjured up the reasoning that I needed the exercise anyways.

I walked into the familiar sights and sounds of XS. The bustle of the girls and guys dressed in black from head to toe, scrambling down the three flights of long stairs to get to the kitchen in time for the food not to be cold for the patrons. (That part always amazed me.)

I found a seat on the second floor and waited for the others to arrive.

Once they did, I found out that my friend's best friend/roommate was celebrating her early birthday. We ordered, and had pleasant conversation and then decided that we would go back to my friend's apartment where she had baked a cake for the occasion in an attempt to emulate "Ace of Cakes". It was actually an awesome attempt and I am going to have to steal some photos from her later on.

As we dove into the four tiered cake and gathered around her dining room table, the conversation suddenly took a turn towards attending to finding birthparents.

I don't know how we got on it - I think it started out as an arbitrary topic and ended up with the birthday girl telling a story about how she never wanted to ever find her birthfather - that she knew who he was, but that he never gave a damn about her so why should she try to find him? She ended with, "Nothing ever comes good of that - I am totally against the whole search thing, nothing ever comes good so it's not even worth bothering to try."

And it got me thinking - am I, too, against the whole search thing? Is that the subconscious thought in my head that has really stopped me from taking all of the many chances that I have had to go back to Korea and find my birthparents?

I just got another offer last week from a program that helps adoptees take their first journey back home. I could easily take that trip and then head over to the G.O.A'L. office and ask Dae-won to help me find them. Put in the search application.

And even though I kept the email in my inbox, I know that I probably won't take the offer. In fact, I know for a fact that I won't take the offer. And it's starting to bug me as to what my real reasoning behind it is. I keep telling myself that I would never be able to get the time off from work to go on that two week trip like that. I tell myself that I wouldn't want to go alone if I did take that trip - so if I had to go alone, I would skip out.

But jobs come a dime a dozen (if you're not too picky), and I only have one pair of birthparents. Two people that aren't going to be immortal forever and ever. So why am I not rushing?

The answer? I don't know. I think that it is something there that digs a lot deeper into the surface that I am not yet ready to uncover just yet. I thought I had this all figured out - and that I would go back and find them - and we'd live partially a f&cked-up life of twists and turns between my adoptive parents and my birthparents. And I was okay with that. But in recent times, I have found that my answer to that age old question of: "Have you ever thought about looking for your birthparents?" has gone from a "oh yeah, totally. I really want to." to a "Uhhh, I'm not sure, I am kinda taking it easy right now."

It's like asking a person whether they've decided to take the Low Carbs diet or not. And it's killing me that I am still so undecided.

Just to blog...

2007-11-27T13:38:00.001-05:00

I keep putting off my Taxi Cab Confessions Series - I know, procrastination and laziness doesn't look good on anyone, but I have been too busy perusing the streets, filling with the exhilarating rush that comes with watching the pavement roll underneath with each passing mile...

Yes, I have been driving. Where to? Places. I have been careful not to ring up too many miles in the short time that I have had my beautiful baby, however, I have come into some slight minor bumps along the way (Several years without driving will make a person go crazy, and go apesh*t to the point where I have temporary amnesia on how basic functions work. But mind you, these bouts of memory lapse last all of about two seconds. Too bad two seconds is all it takes to bump into someone/something, etc. etc.)

I promise, more decent blogging to come. Lots more exciting things are going to happen in my life. I just feel it.

My birthday is in about two weeks! And then Christmas! The only good part about Christmas is the giving. I love watching people's faces when I give them gifts. It's probably one of the best sights of life that I'd have to say make it all worth it in the end.

The Most Beautiful View In The World

2007-11-24T22:54:00.000-05:00

This has been my view of the world for the past week and a half. And what a gorgeous sight it is -- the dashboard of my 2008 Toyota Corolla.

For this Thanksgiving, I have been most thankful more than anything for the most amazing people that I have been blessed to have in my life. Friends who love me, care for me, and make sure that I am taken care of....Friends who made this possible this year:

So thank You for friends (family):

for cars, for left foot accelerators, for poetry, for blogs, for freedom, for crummy jobs that help pay the rent and put food on the table, and for sunsets:

Bald IS Beautiful

2007-11-15T08:18:00.000-05:00

It's an odd occurence when something so heavily impacts on your life in such ways that it's impossible to explain it to anyone effectively and then someone, something comes along, and all of a sudden - you're not alone anymore.

Robin Roberts of ABC News recently got diagnosed with breast cancer and made the decision to keep a video diary of her journey to air each morning on Good Morning America to share with America the devastating impact that having cancer has.

This morning, Robin Roberts aired a video addition to her diary: a video of her losing her hair, and also a video of her making the conscious decision of shaving it off before it all fell out.

http://abcnews.go.com/Video/playerIndex?id=3869407&affil=wmar

"As hard as it was, I knew what I had to do."

I sobbed uncontrollably while watching the video this morning, and cried just now watching it again. So much of my fear of losing my hair and the empowering feeling that I was left with once I took the plunge and made the commitment to shave my head came rushing back while watching Robin sit there in the chair staring into the mirror at her reflection as the hair was slowly removed piece by piece.

"When I finally did it, I took the power back. Because now I was making the decision instead of letting the cancer make the decision."

I cannot imagine how draining cancer and chemotherapy must be, and how much of your energy and will is tested in a time like that. I am so blessed that my emotional journey ended at just hair loss, rather than the immense physical pain that accompanies surviving cancer.

Going along even more with bald being beautiful - there was a segment about alopecia areata on NBC's local newscast at 5 o' clock news earlier tonight in Baltimore. A woman locally is suffering and wanted to raise awareness.

I have decided for sure that next year I want to put together a fund raiser for alopecia areata awareness. I believe that there is enough advance in modern medicine that with effective funding a cure can be found. I'll keep everyone posted as I slowly begin the process of putting together my first ever public fundraiser.

Oops! :-)

2007-11-11T07:53:00.000-05:00

-=EDIT=- to the weekend update post...

Goosey brought to my attention that I never addressed the fact of where my father was all those hours --

He was in another hospital room sleeping the entire time!!

His nurse who had released him at around 4 AM had suggested that it might be too early for him to call his wife for a ride home, so therefore she offered him an empty hospital bed to sleep in.

What she failed to remember to do though, was the write it down on his chart that she had promised to wake him up around 7 AM so that when her shift ENDED at 7 AM that the next nurse that took over would know that some dude was sleeping in the empty hospital room in the ER.

My Dad didn't realize that there was all this commotion going on around him until at around 8 AM, a nurse bringing another patient into the room woke him up. She quickly pulled the door closed again and behind the door, my father could overhear her saying to the other nurse, "I had no idea anyone was in there."

At that, my Dad decided to glance at the clock on the wall and realized that he had never been woken up and that he had overslept. So he grabbed his clothes and jacket, and headed for the bathroom out in the hall.

As he stepped out of the bathroom, three police officers approached him.

"You wouldn't happen to me [insert Dad's name here], would you Sir?" asked the police officer.

At this, my Dad said he turned white and kinda gulped when he replied "Yes".

"Well, you have a LOT of people looking for you," replied the police officer ushering him towards the patrol car outside.

"Defying Gravity"

2007-11-08T13:51:00.000-05:00

Something has changed within me

Something is not the same

I'm through with playing by the rules of someone else's game.

Too late for second guessing

Too late to go back to sleep

It's time to trust my instincts

Close my eyes...

and leap!

It's time to try defying gravity -

I think I'll try defying gravity

and you can't pull me down.

I'm through accepting limits

'cause someone says they're so

Somethings I cannot change

But till I try I'll never know!

Too long I've been afraid of

losing love I guess I've lost

Well if that's love,

it comes at much too high a cost...

And so I'll try defying gravity

Kiss me goodbye

I'll be defying gravity

and you can't pull me down...

So if you care to find me

Look to the western sky

As someone told me lately

Everyone deserves to fly

And if I'm flying solo

At least I'm flying free

To those who ground me

Take a message back for me

Tell them how I'm defying gravity

I'm flying high, defying gravity

And soon I'll match them in renown

And no body in all of Oz

No wizard that there is or was

Is ever going to bring me down!

Bring me down!

-From the musical "Wicked"

**Why didn't I hear this song four years ago?

It's tragedy that brings back reality

2007-11-05T15:17:00.000-05:00

It was Friday night and I had just finally gotten my phone back. Six voice mails, a couple of unseen texts...nice to know that even without my phone I am still loved.

I grabbed a taxi home again since my Dad wasn't going to be home until close to midnight. I got another fantastic taxi driver whom I've decided to wait until a later blog post to write about. (Because I have been keeping a journal of all the taxi drivers that I have met over the past few years of using their transportation services. And since my use of them is coming to an end shortly, I decided to blog about my experiences, each and every one of them, in order to make my Ode to the Taxi Driver: My Long Lost Salvation)

Once I got home, my roommate was already up and in the kitchen with one of her friends making a "penis cake", that is, a cake shaped like a penis. Along with chocolate "penis pops", that is, chocolate molded in the shapes of penises on sticks. You know, to suck. (Okay, okay, enough of the sexual innuendo.) She was preparing these little "fun treats" for the bachelorette party the next night for one of her friends who is to get married in the next couple of weeks.

Gen-gen gave me a holla on my phone and said that he and Alex were set for a night out on the town. One, because her parents were out of town and two, because Gen-gen got his parents to watch the dog for a weekend. So he could party, of course. It was not my intention to really PAR-TAY, but I would be stupid if I didn't admit that every single time Gen-gen and I go out, insanity ensues. Craziness.

Well, Gen-gen headed over to my place. I excused the mess, because just like Goosey, I am not particularly a slob or messy persay, it's just that I tend to lay things here and there throughout the week because I am too exhausted to put them away in their place. So I wait until Friday night to put everything away to let the week start out nice and clean. Except that when Gen-gen came over, I hadn't gotten a chance to motivate myself yet.

He fell onto my bed and then lay there as I walked around trying to get ready. He asked me how my week went - which led to another conversation, that led to a delightfully wonderful conversation and revelation (which will end up being the next post).

We head out to Mosaic with Alex and two of her friends. This Filipina girl whose name I didn't catch and her boyfriend, I (To keep anonymity). Let me talk about I for a second - this man had to be double the age of the Filipina girl (who looked like she couldn't be any older than 24 or 25). Not only was I older than the hills in age, but he was older than the hills in dress, mannerisms and...well, absolutely everything. There's a difference between a person's age and then a person acting and dressing, and being consumed by that number. I was one of these people, evidently.

He is Russian (of course, right? Gen-gen and Alex are.) and he has this very creepy look about him. The kind of perv, I would take girls into dark alleys that are half my age look. The "I am Soviet, hear me roar!" kind of look. Not only that, but he began dancing, if that's what you would want to call it. I don't even think all the dictionary knowledge in the word could help me describe to you how terribly horrible this man was at dancing. Think about the stiffest dance you could possibly think of - add in a little bit of attempt to roll your hips - except instead of rolling them in a sexy way, you're literally plummetting them into the side of your dance partner awkwardly. All the while your right arm is pressed in the air bent at the elbow while your right leg is up and you're trying to do some half-Funky chicken dance. Except that "The Chicken Dance" isn't playing: "This Is Why I'm Hot" by Mims is. Yes, it was that bad, people.

Okay, now that I've gotten that out of my system...

After the club, Alex and Gen-gen and I headed back to his place. I noticed a missed call around 11:30 from my mom. She never calls that late. She's never up that late. So I called my VM and listened to the message.

My Dad had come home from work at Nordstrom's with a horrible pain in his side, puking all over the place and just feeling incredibly lousy. He had decided to head to the ER at St. Joe's and my aunt had agreed to take him. They had found a kidney stone about 3 milimeters inside of his kidney. She wanted to let me know that we weren't going to be going to my nephew's birthday party the next day.

Since it was so late, Gen-gen let me crash in his guest room. I had passed out on his couch a few hours before and woke up around 4:30 AM, and walked up to the guest room and collapsed out on the bed.

Around 7:00 AM my phone goes off. I wake up and with sleepy eyes gloss over the screen of my cell while hanging out of the bed. I can barely make out the numbers but they look like my parents' house number. I picked up the phone.

"Hello?" I attempted to force myself awake but sitting all the way up and rubbing my free hand against my eyes.

"Em, your father is missing," came the clear, yet shaking voice of my Mom.

"What the f$%k?" was the first thing that came out of my mouth. I was wide awake now. "What are you talking about, Mom?"

"Your father is gone, he's missing. I called over at the hospital just two minutes ago and the nurses station said he was discharged at 4:20 AM this morning. But he never came home," came my mother's voice from the other side of the line. It came over with an eerie calmness, the kind that let you know that she hadn't let the news sink in yet - but that she was overwhelmed enough to know she needed someone to talk to.

"Well, wait - he never called you or anything? He couldn't have left the hospital by himself," my mind was racing to try to find some logical explanation as I tried to stay calm for my mother's sake.

"No...he never called. He never said anything. In fact, I had talked to him right before I left you that voice message last night and he said he was going to have to stay overnight there to try to get the kidney stone out. That was the last I heard of him. I don't know what else to do," she said.

"Have you called C?" C is my oldest brother whose a cop in Harford County.

"No but I am going to, he'll know what to do about these things." My Mom is the kind of person who thinks that a person's occupation makes them the Einstein-know-it-all of anything and everything related to that occupation. Since my brother is a cop, my mother felt that there had to have been some special "way" of talking to police officers for missing persons, so she enlisted my brother's "expertise".

Two minutes later, I get another call.

"C is out calling the police, looking for your father," she said.

"That's great. They'll find him, I know they will Mom."

"...I think he might have committed suicide."

I didn't know what to say. I don't even know whether I was quite awake enough right before she said it - but I certainly fully awake after it was said. I had been so calm, so collected just several miliseconds before and now, in an instant, I felt the lump of fear clump itself into the back of my throat, forcing me to forget to breathe and let all the effort of breathing go into creating hot stingy tears that wasted no time occupying my eyes.

"I really think that's what he did," she said, "He's been just so happy recently. Even your sister has noticed."

I couldn't tell you what I thought of that comment because I was too caught on what she had said prior to that. Suicide? My Dad had been extremely happy recently - but I figured it was due to what he kept saying - that he had finally found a decent medication that helped to keep a constant and steady control on his once fluctuating moods. He didn't feel so up and so down anymore. He felt like he had a better control over his daily situations that would have normally caught him in a frenzy in the past. I had been so happy for him - why couldn't she be? Why did that have to be a "sign" that he would take his life?

And suddenly, like a flashback from a movie, I was taken back to middle school, and even just two years ago. Saw the vision of my father collapsing onto his knees in the bedroom, my mother standing over him with a menacing glare, his body so limp, so lifeless...and then the look on his face - so incredibly draining just to look at the expression on his face. I remember feeling my heart sink into the pit of my stomach to the point that I felt the thump as it hit the inner foremost wall of my stomach cavity. And yet even with my belly full, I felt so empty and helpless at the sight of my father so weak like that. Weak beyond anything anyone should ever feel at anytime. I could hear his voice just as I did two years ago, "I can't do this anymore...I can't do this anymore. I just don't want to live anymore..."

I choked back the tears and caught myself from sinking deeper into the past.

"No, Mom. He was fine, he is fine. He was so happy the last time I saw him. We'll find him. I am coming home now. Just relax. Do not scare the kids," I said, pulling the covers off and stepping into the chill of the guest room.

That man who was the man I saw two years ago was not the same man I saw a few days ago singing along to Carrie Underwood on the radio, I kept thinking.

Despite my best efforts, once I hung up the phone with my Mom I felt the tears start to flow and just let them flow. If there is anything that I have learned in the past few months it is to let the emotions I have out when I have them - holding them in is only going to prolong and worsen the pain later on.

I text J, a little freaked out still. J agreed with me - that my Dad would be found, that he wouldn't do something like that, and that my Mom was probably just overreacting as always. For Dad's sake, I hoped to God she was just being overdramatic like always.

I woke up Gen-gen and he took me over to my parents' house, all the way supporting me as I kept talking out loud to myself about my parents, about how much they have always been flitty in the past but no matter what, even if it was against my better judgement, I was always there for them. I have always been there when they needed me...even if it wasn't reciprocated.

We drove up to my parents' house and Gen-gen offered to come in with me but I told him that he didn't have to worry about it - and could just go home and get some rest for the both of us. As we were pulling into the neighborhood, we past a police car exiting as we were entering.

Once I got to the front door, my brother called me to tell me they had found him. He was already at the house down in the basement, and my Mom was sitting in the kitchen.

I suddenly let out a deep breath. It felt like I had been holding my breath that entire time and just at that moment had finally let it all out.

Standing in that kitchen, I stood there looking from my Mom, to my older brother, and then all around at my little brothers and my younger sister and realized then that sometimes it's tragedy that brings us back to reality.

As the police escort arrived to at the front door, I didn't hesitate in giving my Dad the biggest never-ending hug I had ever given him, never wanting to let go.

A Great Weekend!!!

2007-10-30T15:13:00.000-05:00

(I have been behind in my blogging duties to myself so bear with me.)

Thursday Night (of last week): Made sure to leave work right at 5 pm to get over to FFCU on Bel Air Road. (Because that's the location that my coworker, Code Name: F. Sanchez used to work at and had given me a friendly connect by being able to drop her name there.) Once I got there, I nervously sat and waited for someone to call on me in the line. What about credit unions made me think of them as forbidden secret societies? As if the word "union" constituted that I must work at a place where I get a special secret coded name tattooed on my ass and a name badge that had access into government facilities. And then, one day, while conversing with Code Name: F. Sanchez about car loans, she informed me that I, little ole me, could hold an FFCU account. Is it because of my newly G.I. Jane haircut that made me a formidable opponent as a secret agent (if not for skill, just for the mere fact that it has made me look like one tough motha sucka)? Or could it be the fact that I know her, Code Name: F. Sanchez and she is part of their covert society based on former FFCU workers who meet and have lunch at some posh restaurant every Thursday?

Alas, no, it is because I am a student, she tells me. A God-damn student?! What's so effing special about that? It's THAT easy to be a member of FFCU? Well, Jesus, I thought, I should go in and apply for a car loan.

And that's just what I did. And I was told that I would have to wait for the response. (which I received and will talk about in another post in the near future, if I ever get my ass back on blog schedule.) What bugged me the most was that my mother showed up at the last minute. Now, understand, she had to show up sooner or later because she was my ride, but she sat there so quietly, not asking any questions, even though the whole point of her being there was for her to ASK QUESTIONS. My God! I guess she forgot to put that on her list of things to do.

Friday: God, I wanted this day to be over so badly. Not just because I was excited about going to see Carl Cox @ Buzz (which I was) but because my week had been ridiculously packed with endless projects, and never ending piles of financial yada and bullshit. The more and more I stay at the this job, the less respect I have for people who have money and flaunt it. I can't tell you how many times in the past week I have had customers keep me on the phone, complaining about how much money they have and how much they had to spend in cash for their $22.6 million home in Milan. Blah, blah, blah.

Friday night: I rushed home from work and immediately tried to clean up my room, get my laundry done and get into my costume for the party. I was going as a schoolgirl. I even bought the sexy pantyhose that only come up thigh-high. Oh yeah, baby. But then I realized at the last minute that I had gotten rid of my black boots and only had brown ones to wear. Well, that wouldn't work. But I didn't really have time to worry about that. J was to be over any minute (close to 8) and I wanted to have the place cleaned up from my work week (because I have a tendency to throw things everywhere during the work week because I come home too exhausted to do anything but sleep) so that he had a place to nap. By this time, as exhausted as I felt, I was too filled with excitement for the party - and I was up and raring to go.

He showed up close to 9. Collapsed on my bed, and the sucka was out like a light. And despite my award-winning cleaning skills, I had failed to get the text that he had sent just minutes before telling me that we probably weren't staying at my place this weekend. All that work for nothin'. Well, at least the room looked pristine to my satisfaction for the most part.

I had the TV running while he was sleeping and I decided to finish getting dressed. Now was the time to focus on the fact that I didn't have matching boots. So after trying different variations, I finally gave up and just threw on a pair of jeans, and a black laced tank top and a black hat and a matching sweatshirt and was done. I put my make-up on and then checked the time. It was close to 11.

I woke up Sleeping Beauty and we were off. And of course, like always, while I was sitting in the car driving there I started to get sleepy - meanwhile, J got wide awake. So by the time we got there, I was exhausted again and he was energized like the pink bunny.

God, was it fun!! I got to see D - who hadn't seen the G.I. Jane look yet. He pulled me aside and admitted to me that he was never worried from the start - due to my "great bone structure" I think is what he said. It was really loud - but then he pulled away and motioned towards my cheek bones, so I think that's what he meant. I love that my guy friends are the kinda dudes that pay attention to things such as "great bone structure". It really meant a lot to me. He kept telling me that it looked great. Probably because D knows I am the type of person that needs to be told a bazillion times.

J got to see his friend J-man. Although J-man's friend was gettin' a little frisky with me. It was flattering in the beginning - you know, the kind words, the look up and down. You ladies know what I'm talking about! Especially when you're not feeling like you have your A-game on (I mean, yes, I took the hat off for the whole night, so it was the first night out as G.I. Jane in a club) and some dude says you're hot. That's always nice to know. But not when they come from behind and get all freak-a-leek on the sides of your body and then crouch down low like they are in a constipated squat trying to press their face close to your booty. Oh, hell no. Not cool.

D caught it though. D saved me! He went to J-man and told J-man I was his sister, and I was kinda "involved with someone" and I didn't want to be touched like that. That was pimp, D, very pimp of you. Much appreciated, my friend.

There was some other creep later on with some massively large and seizure-infested lit glow sticks that was running around and then trying to hit on me and Esther-unni while we were sitting on one of the blocks. J saved us then. Yay J!!!

I was happy to run into Eugene and Kuya EARL!!! Even though Kuya Earl was f*cked up, he recognized me and rubbed my head "for good luck". Asked me how I was doing, and gave me a big big hug. He told me all about what was going on with his family as he always does. I felt like I was part of that family at one point - so he knows I still care. Until he gets to Corp. He suddenly said that Corp was in the market to buy a house in Towson. He started working for Sinai as some sort of respiratory something and had been asking about me. Kuya said he didn't know because he didn't know. J is convinced that Corp is trying to find me. I don't think so ... I think he gave up on me a long time ago - just like I gave up on him before that. Regardless, it was nice seeing Kuya - even though this is the upteenth time I have seen him out WITHOUT a girl!! Hmm... (I have my thoughts about that)

Ohhhh, before I finish Friday night's expo - I gotta point out one thing that really GROUND MY GEARS!! This dumbass piece of no-good white trash of a bouncer (I don't know your name, and you better be so glad I don't) that works at Buzz... for the past few times that I have gone there, he has always been the one who checks my ID. So when he checks it, and I get up there, he takes the ID and he stands there for a good two minutes - moving his eyes from the card, to me, to the card, back to me. Giving me this "I'm a bad ass motha f&cka" look with these piercing eyes and these pursed lips. The first time it happened, I got scared. Second time, annoyed. Third time, pissed off. This time? I looked this motha f&cka right in the eye. IN THE EYE. Try to tell me that's not me, stupid ass. So I shaved my head, bitch - go get some glasses. I didn't have any plastic surgery. It's the same person. Grrrrrr!!! Then he has the audacity to ask me "Do you have any cards on you with the same name?" WTF?! You want my passport? You want to check if I am a legal citizen while you're at it? Grrrrrr!!! I showed him my credit card and then he finally let me in. That bastard... I swear. One more time and I will probably be banned from the club forever for kicking the living shit out of him.

Saturday day/night: Right after Buzz, we all left together. Gen-Gen begged me and J to come to his place (because we didn't go the last time) so we headed over there with the code to his garage door. When we got there, Gen-Gen asked us to take Elvis (his puppy) out. In the rain. In the cold. At 3 or 4 in the morning. Yeaaaahhh...

We did, but Elvis only seemed to want to piss. So we went back inside and waited for Gen-Gen. Thirty minutes pass by - no Gen-Gen. This is where it gets hazy for me. I know we were there for what seems like a while. I remember laying on Gen-Gen's comfy white couch and collapsing... I remember seeing the dog jumping all over the place and J sitting in the chair adjacent to me. How long we were there, I have no clue. J said I started talking inaudibly again...hehehe. Oh well. We all have our moments.

Finally, I just remember J grabbing my hand and telling me we were getting out of there because Gen-Gen was never coming after all.

The rest of the night was AWESOME!! It was just great to hang out with J and be goofy, retarded people. Talk about everything and anything, sing karaoke until we have no voices left, listen to music and make commentary... (he still won't let me live up that damn discussion we had about Irony) it was just really relaxing.

Sunday: I woke up wishing it were Saturday and that weekend wasn't over. But it was Sunday, and we were too tired to do anything but lay in bed, eat something, and then go back to sleep. We did stop at Target really quick so we could pick out a gift for lil Drew. I told him to buy the Duplo (because what kid doesn't like Legos?) but J was thrown off by the fact that the set came with a Duplo cat and he insisted that we not make Drew "sissy"...so instead, we opted to get some some mini cars and trucks (which J dubbed as "manly"). I was so impressed with J's coordinating skills!! He got a blue bag and then got a card that said Happy 2nd Birthday with a dump truck on it! (I am sucker for wrapping gifts with a unified theme and I guess it rubbed off.)

J dropped me off at home, and he headed to the party. I saw the pics on LP's site - looked sooo cute!!! I collapsed in bed, and then woke up to work on Chemistry. And then found that my phone was seriously missing. J called me at work later on to let me know I had left it in his car.

W.W.S.O'.C.W.?

2007-10-26T07:47:00.000-05:00

Since my entrance into the world of 15-minute showers and Chia-pet fuzz, life has been fantastic.

Despite my initial disappointment that the shaved head didn't increase my walking speed just by sheer removal of weight, (hey, you know, hair can be heavy. Weight transfer applies to cars - why can't it apply to humans?) I have had this sudden boost of self-confidence, and feel so incredibly lifted and at ease. At this point, I don't think it will make a huge difference with me whether my hair continues to grow or whether the growth stops here. I feel like I've gained my old-self back and it's such a f*cking amazing feeling.

When I look back at just a few months ago, sitting up at T & S's till the early morning, and being so terribly frightened of losing all my hair, and then I look at the me now, it's like a huge transformation. The thing I was scared of the most in the beginning ended up being the one thing that has placed me back on the high self-esteem map!

So I got this new look, and along with it this encouragement to wear make-up every day. (Where before when I left the house and was feeling lazy I would throw my hair into a ponytail and not worry about my face at all. Maybe if you were lucky you'd see me at around noon taking out my eyeliner and smudging a line in my cubicle mirror with an added finish of lip gloss.)

In addition to the added interest in make-up and experimenting with funky colors, I suddenly realized that my old wardrobe of T-shirts and jeans doesn't jive with this haircut at all.

At this revelation, I find myself asking the age old question:

W.hat W.ould S.inead O'. C.onnor W.ear?

This T-shirt and jeans thing just isn't cutting it. Or perhaps I am just coming up with the best damn excuse ever to reward myself with a shopping spree for new clothes for the new 'do.

I feel like my Chia-pet fuzz is whispering fashionista advice in my ear in the morning.

"No, no, don't wear that God awful two-year old blouse from the Gap...who wears that now? I refuse to look good with that shirt. How bout you try that nice brand new Benetton fuschia cashmere sweater you bought last week? You know I look fabulous in cashmere."

Damn, never knew my Chia-pet fuzz was going to have such great taste in fashion.

My Life as G.I. Jane

2007-10-24T06:57:00.000-05:00

I shaved my head on Saturday morning/Friday night. It was one of the most exhilarating things I have done thus far in this past year, so exhilarating that even I was surprised at what an impact it has had on me.

I know that if I had waited to cut it any longer that I probably wouldn't have - or at least I would have put up a good fight. But the fact that it was 3:30 AM or so, and J and I had just gotten home from Fur, and the fact that I was feeling particularly "happy", he just caught me like a deer in headlights.

No sooner had I taken off my "club clothes" and hopped into my PJs was J romping into my room and grabbing his duffel bag.

"You want to cut your hair now?" he asked, holding the bag for his razor in one hand and standing there in my doorway, giving me the look that said he was asking, but knowing full well he was going to cut it anyway regardless of my answer.

"Now? Like, right now?" I asked.

"Yeah, it's best anyways. You can take a shower afterwards since you've been out all night, and then it'll be easier to clean up the hair."

An exasperated sigh ensued, "Okay, I guess you're right."

No sooner had I said okay, J was in the bathroom unzipping and making a lot of racket.

By the time I walked into the hallway and towards the bathroom door, he already had his hair trimmer plugged in and ready to go, all set up nice and neat like a mini barber shop.

He opened up the toilet seat and had me hang my head over the bowl, and I stared at the clear toilet water with suspense as I heard the constant buzz of the hair trimmer in his hand once he clicked it on.

And then it was done. I remember standing up and staring into the bathroom mirror, rubbing my hand over the top, and turning my head left and right to admire his handywork.

Since I have been "G.I. Jane-d" it is like a huge weight has been lifted off of my shoulders. I have found this sense of freedom that I never thought imaginable. Weird, I know - that it would all come from just shaving a bit of hair off, but truly, honestly, it really has opened up this whole new source of positive energy for me.

I guess I never realized (until I shaved it off) how much the remnants of my "old" hair was really weighing me down. It was forcing me to be critical of myself, and forcing me to be judgmental because every time I looked in the mirror, those pieces were a constant reminder of what I used to have.

Plus, the long hair in those random areas matched with the patches of Chia-pet fuzz (that's what I call the little baby hairs that are slowly growing in my bald spots) everywhere was just daunting to look at.

And what's awesome about this haircut? 15-minute showers. 10 minutes to get dressed. I love it. No fuss with the hair, no curling irons, no blow dryers. Me, my fuzzball of a head and a nice outfit. Boom. Done.

I love Dr. B and all but...

2007-10-19T09:48:00.000-05:00

I AM SO HAPPY THAT I DON'T HAVE TO SEE HIM (medically, at least) FOR TWO MONTHS!!!!!

How freakin' awesome is that? Once I took the wig off, and showed him how much progress my hair growth has been making - he even said that he was super happy with the Dritho-scalp and the results.

The attending today was kind of a dick. I don't know - it seemed like he would ask me a question and then look more at Dr. B than at me...which kind of irked me a little bit but hey, those attendings can't all be winners!!!

It doesn't matter anyway - the "dick" agreed with Dr. B and I that my hair was definitely growing back and that I should continue on the Dritho-scalp.

Dr. B asked me how long I had been leaving it on for (since the last time they had seen me they told me to try to leave it on for up to two hours). I kind of confessed that I had done some experimenting on my own and had pretty much been leaving it on my head for 4+ hours and just sleeping with a hair cap on my head with the medicine all on my scalp. I figured that it wasn't irritating my scalp to the point of no return, and why not leave it on for the maximum amount to see if it works any faster? I guess it did!! (hehe)

So the end result is: keep doing what I'm doing and they will see me back in two months!! YAY!!!!!!

Day One of Wig-Wearing Under My Belt

2007-10-17T19:48:00.000-05:00

I had started to write this blog entry last night after my Chem lab, but a kid whom I had met several years ago during my first year at CCBC grabbed me to start talking. Apparently, he never forgot me, even with a wig on my head.

So yesterday was my first day in wig-wearing glory. The night before was when I had purchased it from the wig store on Taylor & Loch Raven (The one that everyone who I had talked to always raved about.) which turned out to be a very less emotional experience the second time around.

Ever since that first time in the wig shop, I had realized that I wasn't fully ready as much as I thought I was. I don't think that I had fully accepted who I was without the wig, even though I truly thought I had moved on from that, until I hung out at my friend Scott's house a couple weeks ago.

Scott is a DJ. Well, he just started and his first "true" gig was at XS the other night. So I tagged along with a group of people to show some support. After the restaurant closed, we decided to head over to Scott's house to have some food and some mojitos.

This was the first time that these guys would see me the closest I have ever been to being bald. And what was even cooler was that previously that night, when Jolee came to pick me up from my house, I just ran down the steps with no hat on, with nothing to answer the door.

I don't know what compelled me to do that, but I was really glad that I had. I think it was just time. That and a high disregard for not having enough time to put a hat on. Irregardless of what the reasons were behind it, if any, I answered that door with my dome completely exposed.

I think half way through my walk up the steps once they started to follow me into the house it hit me that I was bald and I felt my heart skip a beat. But by that time I had already committed myself - so I just went with it.

It felt so incredibly freeing. I mean I have read so many posts from people talking about how they revealed their bald heads to the world - and how it felt so freeing but I never thought I'd ever feel it to the extent that I felt it. It was like freedom had come to fruition.

So it wasn't any surprise that later on, while at Scott's house, I suddenly just lifted the hat off my head - and sat there on the couch, continuing on my conversation with Godfather Sage - with no hesitation whatsoever.

And that was it - that was the point where I knew it was time to get the wig. I know it sounds sort of backwards really, why would I be getting a wig just now as I am becoming completely comfortable with being bald? Why cover up that free feeling?

Well because when I first went to the wig store that's exactly what I was doing. Covering up my embarrassment. My shame, my horror, my fears, and my sadness. That wig was doing everything that I was too scared to do - to just face my fears and the truth of it all and embrace it. That's why it wasn't time. That's why I was so consumed with sadness and emotional turmoil.

But now that I am free. Now that I know I am comfortable with being bald - just walking around my house, going to sleep, taking out the trash, exercising - now that I know that, I can now go to the wig store and buy that wig because I WANT to, not because I feel I NEED to. A wig is not something a person should NEED. It should be something a person should WANT. And that's what I wanted to feel. That's what made it the right time for me. Because I knew at that point, the wig wasn't going to hide anything that I hadn't already come to accept. The wig is my play time, my fun time... it is my ability to express that inner crazy self that leaps out in so many other ways - why can't wig wearing be one of them, too?

Testing, testing: One, Two, Three...

2007-10-15T13:27:00.000-05:00

Today is my second Chemistry exam which I spent all of ...five hours (plus the one hour today) studying for.

Do I feel confident? Hell no.

Do I care? Kinda, sorta.

I'm in one of those downbeat days. The ones where you dress up nice to make up for the fact that you feel like absolute crap.

I feel like I am losing grip on everything. And that honesty might not always be the best policy for me. I tend to just say how I feel and not think about what other people are going to think or how they might react. And then it always backfires with them getting angry, or frustrated.

I need to find a happy medium with what I let come out of my mouth ... or some really strong duct tape.

Trying to come to terms...

2007-10-15T06:54:00.000-05:00

This boy wants to play, there's no time left today
It's a shame 'cause he has to go home
This boy got to work, got to sweat
just to pay what he gets to get left all alone

Well let's step outside, let's go for a ride just for a while
Oh we won't get caught, well that's what I thought
until we cried

I'm still here
but it hasn't been easy
I'm sure that you had your reasons
I'm scared of all this emotion
For years I've been holding it down
For years I've been holding it down

This girl tries her best every day
but it's all gone to waste cause there's no one around
This girl, she can draw, she can paint, likes to dance,
she can skate - now she don't make a sound
We'll play in the park, till it's too dark for us to see
We'll make our way home, with mud on our clothes,
she won't be pleased...

I'm still here
but it hasn't been easy
I'm sure that you had your reasons
I'm scared of all this emotion
For years I've been holding it down

And I love to forgive and forget
so I'll try to put all this behind us
Just know that my arms are wide open
The older that I get the more that I know
Well it's time to let this go...

I've got to let it go, I've got to let it go
I've got to let it go, I've got to let it go

I'm still here,
but it hasn't been easy
I'm sure that you had your reasons
I'm scared of all this emotion
For years I've been holding it down

And I'd love to forgive and forget
So I tried to put all this behind us
Just know that my arms are wide open
The older I get the more that I know...

And I'd love to forgive and forget
So I tried to put all this behind us
Just know that my arms are wide open
The older I get the more that I know
Well it's time to let this go

-"This Boy" by James Morrison

Plastic Heads

2007-10-06T12:57:00.000-05:00

I went to the wig shop last night for the very first time. My father and I were in the neighborhood of the one that people kept suggesting to me, so I decided to have him drop me off to check it out while he went grocery shopping.

As I walked through the doors, for no reason at all, I choked up. I'm still not quite sure where that came from - I didn't realize how nervous I was subconsciously until I immediately was faced with rows and rows of plastic heads covered with wigs.

It was overwhelming, and almost like walking through a Halloween store for me. None of them looked like me. I kept reminding myself that this wasn't for a costume anymore, this was for the real deal. I suddenly realized that I could easily make a wrong decision and it might end up looking hideous and ridiculously out of place on my head. I also suddenly realized that maybe I wasn't as ready as I thought I was, emotionally.

I don't know how to explain this to anyone so that they might fully understand. There are plenty of people out there who buy wigs; according to some of my girlfriends, it is becoming a popular trend among celebrities even. It's not an unusual practice, and just by wearing a wig, it isn't going to mark me as a freak. BUT...

this is new to me.

It didn't matter to me that there were about twenty people already in the store roaming around and trying on extensions and wigs. It didn't matter that they had rows and rows of hair products and a hairstylist section where you could sit down and have the wig shaped and cut to your liking after you had purchased it.

What hit me first was walking past the longer hair wigs. The ones that reminded me of what my hair used to look like. I think that because I have lived with this patchy baldness for the past two months already that I had grown accustomed to how it looks in the mirror. It wasn't until I approached the long haired section that I started to tear up. I touched the frayed ends of what is remaining of my hair now and realized that I almost couldn't remember what it felt like to have long hair. I almost couldn't remember what it was like to pull it back into a ponytail when it got humid and it used to stick to the back of my neck. I used to hate that, and it irritated me to the point of no return.

I would give anything to feel my hair press against my sweaty neck like that now. Anything.

That frightened me. I could barely remember. What did I look like? Why didn't I appreciate it more than I did when I had it? Did I really use to have those wispy bangs? Was I really able to have cute curls at one time? It might seem like I am clinging too much to a painful past, but I know for a fact that I never want to forget what that felt like. What it looked like. Because I know I have to keep the dream alive that I will get back to that girl again, for my own inner strength purposes.

My life seems to be filled with these complicated situations recently where I am flooded with an abundance of mixed feelings and emotions. Wanting and not wanting things, in particular.

A part of me was excited, hopeful, wanting to try every single wig on. The other part of me kept saying it wasn't time yet, emotionally, I just am not ready.

The girl who was walking around spotted me and came over.

"Do you need any help with anything?" she asked, with a smile, "Do you want to look at the wigs?"

"Well, yes, but I don't know where to begin. This is my first time in a wig shop. Do you have human hair and synthetic?"

"Yes, we have both. Human hair is marked with green tags, and synthetics are pink tags," she said, pointing to the rows on the wall.

"What is the main difference between the two, would you say?" I asked, nervously biting my lip. The longer I looked, the more the collection of wigs seemed to grow.

"Human hair can be styled with heat, and curled. The synthetic wigs cannot," the girl said, still smiling.

"Well, I noticed over there while looking at the longer hair ones that they were held on with a comb. Do you think that you have ones with Velcro holders?" I asked.

"The back comb ones? Well all of them come with the Velcro option. You just buy one of the hair wig nets and place them on first and then they connect with the top of the wig," she said picking a random wig off one of the plastic heads to show me.

My eyes widened a little at the unexpected move of how easily she pulled the wig off that plastic head. A minute ago it looked like an Asian woman's head with a nice full head of hair styled with girls, and now the hair lay in between her hands, lifeless. She turned it over to show me the inside.

"Do you see the clip here? You can adjust the inside so that it fits tighter on your head. Like a bra strap," she said as she unhooked the little piece inside of it and moved it over one to the next hook holder.

I nodded, "That's exactly what I was wondering. It's just that I have alopecia ...and I don't think I have enough hair to hold the back comb ones down."

I have gotten used to saying that word. I tried to incorporate it into my vocabulary so I wouldn't choke up anymore at the sound of it.

She nodded and didn't seem affected at all by my blunt statement of my abnormal-ness. What had taken me months to say outright in a few seconds, this girl took as a grain of salt. It's amazing how some stuff works like that.

After a short pause she walked back over and placed the wig back on the plastic head.

"So do you want to try one on?" she smiled.

No, no, no, said the inner me, it's too scary, it's too real. You're bald. You're bald. This is fake hair. Fake.

"Yes," said the outer me.

"Good, I'll be right back with a fresh wig cap," she said disappearing into the back.

In the middle of the wig section was a table and a swivel chair on one side and a stationary chair on the other. On top of the table with a big mirror.

The girl returned with a black sock-looking thing.

"Here," she said handing it to me, "Just put it on your head."

I stood in front of that mirror and slowly removed my hat. In the fluorescent lights of the store, my discolored scalp and bald spots looked red, irritated and enormous. I quickly stretched out the cap and placed it on top of my scalp and tucked in the ends of my hair.

"Alright, please pick out one that you'd like to try," the girl said once she saw the cap on my head.

I still was trying to get used to what I looked like with the black cap on. I turned around and looked up at the rows and rows of wigs.

After a few minutes of staring like a kid in a huge toy store, I looked at the girl with a nervous smile and laugh.

"I have no idea what I like... I want it to look real. I don't want it to look..." my voice dropped off. Mainly because the word I was looking for was 'wig'. Which was unavoidable at this point.

The girl gave me a kind of look. "Well, they are wigs. Just chose the style you want. Have fun with it."

I went to the other side of the plastic heads and stared at the row of mid-length hair pieces.

My eyes caught onto a mid-length black one with brown streaks. It caught my eye because it reminded me of the color of my hair before.

"Can I try that one on?" I asked, pointing to it.

"Of course," said the girl walking over to it already. She leisurely lifted it from the plastic head and motioned for me to sit in the swivel chair in front of the mirror.

I watched as she played with the "bra straps" of the wig on the inside to make it fit my head.

She motioned to the mirror to indicate for me to look into it while she placed the wig on my head for me.

I watched as she stretched the front on first, adjusting the hairline so that it fit on my head in the correct position. She reached underneath and towards the nape of my neck to straighten out the back of the wig.

And then she proceeded to comb it.

It was the weirdest, surrealist feeling I had ever felt before. I almost didn't want to look into the mirror because up to that point I had been staring at the table top.

When I lifted my eyes, I couldn't believe how real it looked. But it wasn't my hair. I shoved that thought into the back of my mind and tried to focus on the wig itself, and how it looked on my head.

At first it felt awkward, but once I started running my fingers through it, I got used to its look. It had wispy bangs, which would need to be cut once I bought it because they kept swiping into my eyes.

"I think it looks perfect on you," exclaimed the girl, standing back as if to admire her handywork.

"You do?" I asked, "you know, I really like it, too..."

But I didn't buy it. I had to sleep on it.

When I got home later on, I sat in my apartment with a glass of black raspberry wine and scribbled for three hours into my journal.

Today, I think I'll go back to purchase it. It's a big step. And even if I go out and buy it, I am not sure when I'd wear it out - whether I'd be comfortable with wearing it out or whether I'd spend the entire night wondering if other people thought I was wearing a wig. Or worse - knew I was wearing a wig.

One step at a time though, right?

Master of Musical Irony

2007-10-03T20:24:00.000-05:00

Damn stupid fucking school computers. Won't let me compose in the main spot, so if this looks funky, it's because I had to type it in the "Edit HTML" area. And since I am HTML illiterate, this post will just have to look funky.

Okay, so as I was thinking before I was so rudely interrupted by this incompetent piece of crap for a computer...

I was just sitting here listening to my iPod while waiting for my Mom to decide to come and pick me up from school. It's 9:26 pm and I don't think she realizes the things that I still have yet to do tonight - I have to prepare my 6 minute speech for tomorrow about Korea. I also have to create the poster on poster board, and do my hair. I also have to go back to my apartment to pick out clothes so that I have something to wear tomorrow (I start my driving training tomorrow with the State and I am pretty nervous.). I have to do all of this TONIGHT. And yet she told me that I just have to hold on a minute and stay here a little while longer.

Thus why I am blogging while listening to my iPod.

Anyways, I just realized while sitting here and listening to some Phil Collins that he is totally the master of musical irony.

Listen to the beginning of "Throwing It All Away" by Genesis and you'll see what I mean. It starts out with such a happy melody, and then once you get into the song and really listen to the song, it's really kinda sad. Depressing, even.

I mean, take a listen to "Invisible Touch". I am sure all of you danced to it one time or another, but have you really ever listened to the lyrics? It's about a woman that he doesn't even know the name of, that he's never been with - and yet he knows he's in love with. It's basically about that desperation of loving someone you'll never be able to be near.

It amazes me how much Phil Collins is able to take a crap paddy and stuff it in a neat little box and tie it with a pretty ribbon. It becomes a crap paddy disguised as a gift. A pretty little neat package of feel-good toe-tapping beats, with sad, depressing and realistic lyrics tucked in between.

Oh Phil Collins, you genius, you. Thank God you're back on tour with Genesis. Genesis without you is like peanut butter and jelly without the jelly.

I had a blog post sitting in editing but...

2007-10-03T12:47:00.000-05:00

Today - all I feel like doing is listening to my iPod (specifically the song below by The Format) because it's just setting my mood. I am actually pretty content and happy today, but this song totally just struck me as another way of expressing how I've been feeling recently.

The Format - "I'm Ready, I Am"

I'm nicotine, I'm coming clean
I fooled the crowd when I made it sound
like I was more then ready

Strike up the band, deprive
My sleep cause there's no love like apathy
the bell that tolls rings loud enough
that it should have woke us up

[chorus]
I'm trying to find truth in words,
in rhymes, in notes, in all the things
I wish I'd wrote cause
I feel like I've been losing you

I read your last entry
over-privileged kids keep crying
the need to fit in is harder when living life from a screen.
old Classmates, please drop all your pens
don't write a word cause I wont reply
and I'm not bitter, no its just
I've passed that point in my life

[chorus]
I'm trying to find truth in words,
in rhymes, in notes, in all the things
I wish I'd wrote cause
I feel like I've been losing you.

Each night it ends too soon
you don't hold me like you used to
and your eyes look like they've seen too much.
Its always some excuse too tired,
too obtuse, you look so far removed,
this time I fear I'm losing you

I'm nicotine, I'm a cash machine
I'm the colour green and you should have seen
the looks I just received

I need a reason to let go an intervention,
a lullaby something to cure me
please believe me

[chorus]
I'm trying to find truth in words,
in rhymes, in notes, in all the things
I wish I'd wrote cause
I feel like I'm losing you.

Baby Steps

2007-09-30T21:23:00.000-05:00

Saturday did not turn out how I had expected. It ended up that very early in the morning I realized that I had misplaced the bag that held my Anthralin and now had to retrace my steps. The bag had to be somewhere between my work on Friday, the quick stop at my apartment and then finally, my parents' house.

Once the first half of the morning was spent running a rampage through my parents' house with no success, I realized it had to either be my place or at work. I was praying for it to be at my place.

So I had my father drive me over, and I ran up the steps, trying to focus, trying to find that bag. Nope, no bag. But I grabbed another outfit to wear (since I was wearing sweats and I was headed to a study group later on at 1 pm @ Barnes and Nobles) and headed out the door.

That left the last place: my office. I've never been there on a Saturday - much less a Saturday morning. It's quite boring - and walking into the building left a weird feeling. There was so much silence, such a sense of emptiness that I felt - as if during the week the building's walls had been so pregnant with the full bustle of workers, diners at Della Rose's and customers perusing the spa on the 3rd floor and suddenly, once 5 pm Friday evening hit, the building was quickly emptied. Just like that. It felt like a foreign country - my sneaker steps echoing against the marble - and I suddenly noticed that three quarters of the main lobby were still unleased.

Well, I found my medicine. Thank God the security guard at the desk recognized me. I had taken my work badge just in case there might be trouble, but I also knew that it probably wouldn't do me any good anyway since all employee badges are programmed with timed access. (I had found this out one morning when my ride had to drop me off at 6 AM and I was unable to get into my office. I had a nice time sitting propped up against the wall until 7 AM rolled around.)

The security guard said that it was his day off, but he had been asked to come in anyway. I told him I just needed to grab my medicine, and that I thought I had left it in one of the drawers of my cubicle. I'm glad he went with me though - I tried to scan my badge at the door first, and it wouldn't let me in.

Medicine in hand, I ran out to the car, and headed back to my parents' house to take a shower and at least get ready for the study group. I desperately need this study group if I even want to stay afloat in this class.

The study group was set up to be at 1 pm. By 2 pm, I came to the conclusion that it had to have been cancelled and I had just not gotten the memo. When I tried to call my other classmate (the girl who put the study group together) her phone had been turned off. Awesome. I called the other classmate and he called me back to let me know that work had called him in at the last minute and he needed the extra money. I understand that.

I tried to study as much as I could by myself, but technically, the whole point of having a study group is so that you can feed off of each other's notes, and other people's knowledge on the concepts that you don't understand. When there are no other persons that kind of defeats the purpose.

I went searching through the self-help, self-teaching books in the science section and grabbed a copy of Chemistry for Dummies. It helped to a point - but at that point, my stomach was growling, and I had lost all interest and focus on trying to finish the homework that was due on Monday. Besides, I was finding it much more exciting to eavesdrop on the conversation occurring two tables over.

There was a woman dressed in what looked like flowery purple drapes. They looked satin from where I sat, but at any rate, they at least appeared soft. She had dark brown hair, below the shoulder, and had a pair of designer sunglasses on her head. Beneath the table, her matching purple toenails were exposed, and she was lightly sipping on her coffee while flipping through a notebook that she had laid out before her.

Suddenly, it seemed like out of nowhere, a couple appears in front of her and they are shaking hands and smiling cordially - but nervously. A first meet, no doubt.

The couple sits down at the woman's table and she begins speaking matter-of-factly. I think that's what intrigued me was her ability to speak with almost no pause, with so much factual tone - it was friendly but professional.

"I know you saw me from my website. You were the ones who emailed me. And I assume that you've had a chance to view the site and see all of the services that I offer. Were you able to check out the photo gallery? Those pictures have been from the past few years of my experience and should give you an idea as to what to expect from me," she said, while flipping more pages of that notebook.

The couple was just nodding their heads, silently. The woman was still gripping her purse on her shoulder - a sign of nervousness for most people.

As the conversation let on, it became apparent that this woman (the one with the purple flowery drape outfit) was a wedding planner and at the end of the conversation, the couple had both agreed that they would be employing her to help plan their wedding.

That was my cue to go. No other interesting things for me there to help distract away from the awful Chemistry homework that I had to do. I quickly packed up my things, placed the empty plate on top of the trash can (the previous home of a delicious turkey and 3-cheese melt on basil infused panini bread) and decided on taking a trip to the mall.

The mall is the same as I leave it - no matter how long I go without perusing its hallways. Which has been a long time. Possibly close to 7 months or so. I bought a few things, but mostly looked. Student loans and a pending auto loan is keeping me from spending too much nowadays.

I had originally planned on staying in all weekend long - but I had gotten a text message later on in the day from my friend Sal. He was headed to Trust (which is now Stadio). Usually, he tells me where he's going and I say 'cool' and stay home regardless.

Something about last night beckoned me out. So I put my medication on for two hours, walked around the apartment trying to clean up, and then took my shower to get ready.

I called the cab at around 9:30 pm. It didn't arrive until 10:15 pm.

The cabbies that I got were truly hilarious. As I climbed into the back, I noticed that there were two men sitting in the front. I was curious, but acted like nothing was out of place.

"200 East Redwood, please."

"Eh?" asked the driver loudly.

"The girl said 200 Redwood...East, right hon?" asked the other man as he turned slightly in his seat to face me.

"Yes, East. That's right." I now knew why there were two. One was the driver and the other was the driver's ears.

It took us forever to get down there. I didn't get to Redwood Street until close to 11 pm since Ears (my name for the second man) told the driver to take a wrong turn without listening to my protests. Finally, they were so exasperated by themselves that they suggested that I get out of the cab a block and a half from the 200 block of Redwood. I agreed, mainly because I didn't want to have a $50 cab fee.

I crawled out of the cab, and made sure to grab all of my things. As I closed the cab door, the driver leaned across Ears and rolled down the window.

"Hey, besides, what is a pretty young girl like you doing out here so late without your boyfriend?"

"No boyfriend. And I'm just trying to have fun and live my life," I said, "Thanks for the ride!"

"Anytime, hon."

The walk was short, but a walk nonetheless. As I neared the valets I pushed past the metal gates and up the front steps.

"This is Trust, right?" I asked for good measure since it had been more than a few years since the last time I'd been there.

"Uh - yeah, Trust - it's not that anymore. Stadio," said the bouncer with his hand outstretched for my ID.

That night was all about baby steps. I was all by myself, had gone with no one I knew - only with the hopes of running into Sal. And just my luck that it was lingerie night - so there were plenty of women with long hair and hoochie outfits to taunt me.

It was tough the first few minutes. I was conscious that I had my hat on, and that I didn't look like any of them. But then I snapped myself out of it - this wasn't the me a few years ago. This wasn't the vibrant girl that went to all the clubs just 5 years ago. Where did that girl go?

I marched up to the bar and flashed a smile. Grabbed my screwdriver, and headed over to the dancefloor.

I decided to just dance. Dance and have fun. That's just what I did. Baby steps, right?

Sal showed up later and kept telling me how I shouldn't be worried about how I looked because I was always going to be fabulous.

Overall, a fun night. Tiring though. I collapsed as soon as I got into the backseat of Sal's car.

Alright, time for me to sleep. Chemistry is kicking my ass. Chemical nomenclature needs to get bent.

-=edit=-
Might I mention to my happiness that despite my self-consciousness of holding the edge of my hat all night to keep it from falling out that I was hit on five times by five separate men (all pretty decent looking, too.) I know that sounds shallow, but in a very small way it helps with the baby steps. I figure if random strangers don't notice anything unordinary, then I shouldn't be so worried about it either.

Funny how life works backwards...

2007-09-27T06:38:00.000-05:00

In the past week since I have started this Anthralin ("Dritho-scalp") treatment, I have begun to see a whole new me. Is it because I now have peach fuzz growing in patches slowly all over my scalp where it was bald before? Possibly.

It's always good to see something good happening. I remember when I noticed the first patch of peach fuzz two days ago, I thought it was dirt (because the anthralin tends to color the scalp brown) but then after washing my hair twice (and losing a ton more hair in the process) I realized that it wasn't dirt - it was the color of peach fuzz - my old black hair, although baby hair fine, growing back. I couldn't believe it. I was siked.

I still am siked. I can't see the back, but from what friends and family members tell me, they can see some growth in the back, too.

But nothing comes without a cost. I have been losing more hair, too. I have almost become completely bald - I mean I still have pieces of my old hair clinging to stay on - but a lot of my scalp is exposed now. It's impossible for me to get away without wearing a hat like I had done before.

And yet, it's funny how life turns things backwards.

In the beginning, as I watched my hair fall out, every single piece of it pushed me farther and farther into this introverted state of mind. I wanted to hide out in a corner. I wanted to crawl under a rock and never see the light of day.

But now, maybe it's because I am seeing growth and for the first time faced with something more solid to have belief in, but now - this morning when I woke up and I washed my hair, and I saw the pieces falling every where, I almost felt more empowered.

I feel the urge to be more extroverted. I feel the urge to just not wear the hat - no matter how odd it looks. And I treat my hair situation as if it is normal. Because eventually, if this alopecia continues in my life, my hair situation will be normal for me. So why not start now?

I do have to admit that it's about time to wear a wig. There are only so many days I can pull off wearing a hat and sometimes it gets uncomfortable and confining. I'd rather be able to not wear the hat and just wear the wig although the thought has crossed my mind that essentially, the wig might not be much better. Essentially the wig is just a hat disguised as hair - and I might feel confined in that, too but at least it's worth a try.

I just don't know of any good wig places.

Things that I should do

2007-09-26T12:15:00.000-05:00

What I should do: Be worried about reading my Chemistry text for tonight's class because last class I was absolutely useless and didn't pay attention to half of the lecture.

What I'm doing instead: Writing in this blog. I should have read last night but I was actually sleeping since I got that bout of a bad case of diarrhea (yeah, I don't care, I'll tell you... I don't think it's that disgusting - it's just something you get sometimes)

What I should do: Concentrate on this Chemistry Text and even attempt to concentrate on the homework that is due next week

What I'm doing instead: Wondering why we have to play these stupid games - even with people that we love. I thought that it all ends once you find that person that you feel you can talk to about anything - but I've learned that that only goes so far as the other person's receptiveness. If they don't want to receive it - then you're stuck holding the bag. It sucks, because I should be thinking about school, about how I am paying my bills this month (because I forgot whether this week is pay week or not - and I am hoping it is because rent is due!), or about whether or not I should just jump headfirst into buying this car this weekend, and try and worry about setting up for a car insurance quote. But --- I am thinking about how much I miss a certain person, and why do I miss them so much when I just saw them last week? How much despite everything that I keep telling myself, there is a tinge of weakness inside that is making me weary - I want to know things I know I shouldn't want to know, things that aren't my right to know anymore...I gave up the right a long time ago. I want to tell that person how much I miss them, without a weird look in reponse, or even worse: no response at all. I text them this morning, telling them how gorgeous the weather was (which surprisingly, gorgeous weather recently depresses me because I have no means of enjoying it. I am stuck indoors with no ride to anywhere where I could enjoy it, unless I hop on the train to DC and just ride the Metro all day. Which, btw, I have been contemplating and if this week really IS pay week then I think I owe Latoya a visit!) and how much I wish that I could see them this weekend - maybe a picnic? Maybe sitting at a table at Panera Bread for an hour - maybe something. Just something. It's terrible when there is one single person you'd want to spend your time with - the only problem is whether or not they'd want to spend their time with you.

I shouldn't be so glum. I know it's all very melodramatic, but hell, that's what this blog is for. To get all that grit out of my head. To write it all down - and to feel better.

Technically, I did get an invite to the APA Film Festival in DC this weekend. Anyone interested in going? Email me. I am wanting to go but I'd rather go with company than by myself like a ...well, like a dork.

Back to reading that Chem book...

My Near (almost, not really) Brush with Death

2007-09-24T06:38:00.000-05:00

This past weekend was the return of Buzz @ Glow. Of course, we all went. By we I mean: J, me, 'Nard, unni, & Gen Gen. Missing in action? Paul & Est unni. Why? The near brush with death.

The weekend before had been my crazy one and not only was it extremely emotional, but it was also Tiesto Live @ Love...outside. I decided against that due to the extreme cold, and opted for the nice, inside, cozy atmosphere with George Acosta @ Ibiza.

But not before driving by Love to say hello to my brother and Est unni. This is where this all began. She gave me hugs and kisses, as usual and then I went on my way to Ibiza.

Skip to this weekend. Est unni and Paul are all ready to go for Return of Buzz. Everyone is. A day before the event, I feel there is something terribly wrong - Paul hasn't called me back. My brother always calls me back. My clairvoyancy is kicking into high gear and I fear... well I fear something bad is happening.

Paul finally calls me later on and says that Est is sick, but it's probably just a cold and they'll see me for Buzz the next night.

Uhh, yeah. In so few short moments, we see Est, we see Paul, and then Est collapses with chills, Paul thinks she's faking, then Est is rushed to the hospital, and the doctors immediately suspect that it's ("dun dun DUN") meningitis.

They run tests on her, and then to be safe, and for good measure, they toss her butt in the ICU. Guess who's laughing now, my brother? He literally felt TERRIBLE for just prior telling her she was faking it (but in my brother's defense, Esther unni has always sorta... dramatized things before for attention. But only in a cutsey way.)

What do our dumbasses do? We still go out. Party. I mean we bought the nearly $30 tickets ahead of time. Why shouldn't we? And it was not just us - we brought other friends.

The place was packed and it was noisy. Exceptionally noisy. So noisy that even though the music was good, J and I kept looking at each other with the same uncomfortable glance because a massive amount of people were all around us - it reminded me of that time in New York with Gen.

So we left ...called to see how Esther unni was, and she had worsened. They hooked her up to IVs and morphine due to the amount of pain. Paul said that the doctors said that we should all be worried about possibly catching it if we had been in contact with her. Oh, great.

We got home really, super late. I was exhausted. Exhausted from worrying about my sister, and exhausted from all those damned people. J & I collapsed on the bed and passed out for several hours.

When I woke up, I had a fever, my throat was raspy and my nose was stuffy. I started freaking out. Big time. J said maybe it was because I was dehydrated, and to keep drinking fluids and to make sure I ate something.

I ate like a fat kid loves cake...and more. And drank Deer Park like it was going out of style. I kept overheating really fast though. So I ended up forcing myself to sleep all day with no covers, and trying to relax, and think happy thoughts like "no meningitis for me, no meningitis here!"

Paul called me late Saturday and asked if I was okay. I told him my symptoms and he said that I shouldn't worry. But if I do think I have it - to go to the doctor or a clinic and get those two day antibiotics or whatever.

So far, I just have a headache today, and a slight stuffy nose. I know, technically I shouldn't be at work if I think I have it - but I am at this point where I really don't think I do. I read on the internet that the best way to catch it would be through transfer of bodily fluids - and Esther unni and I didn't do any of that. Plus, I think that chills is a big thing that comes with it and I haven't had any chills yet.

So this is Monday. Let's hope for a quick and painless week. BTW, this Dritho-scalp has sorta been working...little pieces of hair growth here and there. We'll see though. My fingers are definitely crossed.

PS. Omgosh, Goose. I've gone through "Dying", "Light of the Moon" and "Cartwheels" and I love them all. Every single song. Some I already had - but most I didn't. I have connected on so many deeper levels to every single lyric in each song. Thank you so much.

A little John Mayer does a heart good...

2007-09-21T09:57:00.001-05:00

"I believe/that my life's gonna see/the love I give/returned to me." - from Wheel

I'm not going to let anything stop me from being who I am. Once I start questioning why I do the things I do - they would stop being a part of what makes me unique.

I love that I'm a goober. I love that I wear my heart on my sleeve. I love that I am honest, even when it's really tough to be.

I love that life gives me the chance to experience the pain and the hurt in order to become a stronger person... but I also find it crummy.

I'm only human, and that's the best I can do.

Let me start where I feel comfortable.

I have this diamond. It's like this amazing gift that I came upon one day... it was in the disguise of a rock - but that's how all diamonds begin, isn't it? To appear as something mediocre and unusual... only to later find out that it is something precious, amazing, and beyond value.

I keep that diamond with me everywhere because it reminds me of everything good in my life with how beautiful it is to look at. It reminds me of everything complex in my life because of the cut, the prisms that connect, soak in the light and dispurse it in reflecting and refracting rays of colored rainbows. It reminds me of every single portion of my life that I treasure, the good and the bad, because no matter what happens to this diamond - its value will always hold true. Maybe not to an appraiser with his magnifying glasses pressed against his eyes - but if only to the diamond's owner: me.

This diamond that I have has scratches and nicks... but even those scratches and nicks have strong meaning to me. They allow me to keep all those memories to myself, every single scratch and nick on that diamond represents a time that I never want to forget.

And who am I to throw away the most valuable thing I own just because it has a few scratches on it? In the end, it's still a diamond, it's still gorgeous. I would be stupid to throw it away.

Most people do not understand this logic - but that doesn't matter to me. What matters to me is the relationship I have between myself and what I own - whether that be family, friends, my health... my hair. Regardless of what that diamond represents, no, especially of what that diamond represents is the reason why I keep it. The reason why it will always be something I treasure, I love, I give my heart to. And I don't regret that. It's taken me a crapload of drama, a lifetime of craziness happening in just a month - in just a collective amount of four years - to realize this.

Big Chemistry Exam Today

2007-09-17T12:12:00.000-05:00

Too bad I can't ask for an exam make-up due to a broken heart and broken self-esteem.

I tried to study all weekend but that was just a joke. Flipping through textbook pages apparently doesn't help you retain any of the information faster or more effectively than actually reading the book.

Or maybe it will. That's what I am hoping for since that's all I was capable of doing all weekend. Flipping pages. Pages of my notes from lecture, pages from my chemistry textbook, pages from my past journals, pages from my current journal. Tons and tons of pages.

That and flipping channels. I have become an Olympic channel-flipper. I don't even have the attention span for a commercial. "Geico could save yo-" Nope, click. Flip. Keep moving.

I guess it's to keep my mind from staying on one particular thing for too long. All things in life can be played like a messed-up game of Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon. In the end, they all can somehow be linked to the fucked-up things in your life.

Example 1:

Studying at Barnes & Nobles with my classmate. She wants to go to the Towson one. We used to go there and read through the books together. We'd pick up magazines while waiting for our friends to call us and talk to each other about the articles we were reading.

I kept staring at the magazine racks while my classmate and I were sitting at Starbucks.

Example 2:

I am up late last night. I can't sleep. Although I try to keep flipping, I land on the Hair for Men Club commercial. I am watching the testimonials. Fucking men and their societal acceptance of being bald.

Okay, so those were only one degree, technically. But regardless, I can't shut it off. I can't stop thinking about any of it. And I've decided to stop trying to. I've decided the best thing to do is just be sad for once. Just for a little while - nothing extensive. But just admit that I'm sad because sad things happened recently. And I am starting to actually feel better about them today.

At least it's a start.

Tired of being strong...

2007-09-16T18:28:00.000-05:00

In the past three days I have had hopes dashed and challenged with a less-than-perfect doctor's visit, my heart broken into two and sunken deep into my stomach for the first time in my life, and realized that no matter what - there's a breaking point in how long you can be strong enough to withstand whatever comes your way.

I'm just so tired. Tired of being so strong, tired of being positive all the time, tired of trying to be the girl that everyone sees as being so happy all the time...and tired of giving every piece of my heart away like a fool.

Life is just funny that way, I guess. Eventually, you get fed up.

Flick 'N' Pat

2007-09-12T11:33:00.000-05:00

You know how in those cartoons sometimes, you always see Tom start to run after Jerry and then pause for a moment, only to see a "Devil Tom" appear on his right shoulder and an "Angel Tom" appear on his left?

The "Devil" is saying, "Hey Buddy, go chase after that mouse. He looks mighty tasty. You know you want to, go do it!"

While the "Angel" is saying, "Don't do that, Tom! Jerry has never done anything horrible to you, and you guys should be friends, not enemies."

As fanciful as those cartoons are, that depiction has been pretty true to life when it comes to how my thought process runs when I hit a bump in the road that I have (or haven't) seen before.

For instance, this recent idea of finally being fed up with banking and looking for a new job.

Every night, at the end of the day, I'll be sitting at home, wholly exhausted, my head hurting, and thoroughly disgusted with the lack of accomplishment I get from working at a bank, and all of a sudden, the "Devil" pops up on my right shoulder whispering into my ear: "Hey, hey, why are you thinking of getting a new job? I know you're unhappy with this one - but what if you're not qualified for anything else? What if there's a paycut? Wouldn't you rather be miserable in your life and wealthy than to be a little bit poorer and happy? And you know that the first job interview you go into your going to sink and sink hard. Plus, this boss here doesn't like you that much anyway and would give you a horrible reference if they called her."

And for some reason, I start listening to it. And I start freaking out. I'm thinking, 'yeah, yeah, that's right. I should just stay miserable. I'm too scared to do something else. I am too chicken sh-t to try a new profession even though I know I hate this one.'

Just then, the "Angel" pops onto my left shoulder. "What are you talking about? All anyone ever says is how professional you are, and how friendly you are. Everyone always says how much they like you - you've always gotten good reviews in the past. You know you're a quick learner, and you love learning new things. A new experience could be awesome for you. You never know! This could be your chance to find out what you love doing."

But I start battling back and forth between the two voices of reason in my head. There is a part of ethical logic that reaches me, and I kind of acknowledge the fact that the positive "Angel" is probably the one that I should be paying the most attention to. Yet no matter how hard I try to fully shut her up, the "Devil" on my other shoulder keeps talking. Keeps reminding me of all those negative thoughts, all that negative energy, and all those horrible memories I have in the past of failure, or not measuring up to what I wanted, or what I thought others wanted (another terrible thing that I must admit, I have allowed myself to be influenced by in the past: the thoughts and opinions of others).

One of my favorite quotes from one of my all-time favorite movies (Pretty Woman) is when Julia Roberts' character is lying in bed with Richard Gere's and they are facing each other. He starts to compliment her, and tell her how much potential she has in herself, and how she could be so much more than just a prostitute.

Her response is: "Somehow the bad stuff is always easier to believe. Have you ever noticed that?"

Yeah, I have. Throughout my life, no matter what I know that I will come out stronger and with more determination out of any obstacle - but in the beginning, the mean stuff, the negative energy, the negative thoughts: they always seem to be the easier ones to believe. Why is it so hard to truly believe that there is good in the world and that good can come to you?

I have been told by so many teachers in my life whether it be in elementary, middle or high school that you are what you think you are. "If you think you can do it, then you can do it." I always used to just brush it off. Psh, they are dorky teachers - what do they know?

And then as I got older, I realized that mindset played a huge part in my ability to see the true scope of things. The more negative life seemed, and I allowed it to seem that way, the more negative things tried to happen. The moment I started to smile or shine a light on the more positive things in my life, nothing just miraculously got cured or changed - but I was able to deal with the sh-t in my life with less strife and less anger.

This is way easier said than done, folks. Don't think I am sitting here claiming that I have all the answers, for I have not. And I know there is so much of life out there for me to grab with my two bare hands and grip with all my might. To really taste, touch, see, smell every single thing this universe has to offer me. But even still, I have my dark days, and even still, that "Devil" seems to appear on my shoulder every time.

So I decided that I shouldn't let fear guide me. Essentially, I realized, that's all the "Devil" represents. An inner fear that stems from a past memory, a present thought, a futuristic notion that something might become a catastrophe and then where would I be? Well, I'd still be alive. And that's really all that counts in the end, right? Because in the end, I don't get to take my resume printed on nice stationary into the grave - it won't matter that I got a C+ in Algebra my sophomore year or whether I was my boss' favorite. It won't matter what I wore or didn't wear. And it certainly won't matter what jobs I ever held.

That's why I started my fresh start with a single piece of paper towel. Any kind would do. Didn't have to be Bounty or the cheap Target kind. It didn't have to have the puffy "extra-absorbant" squares. Just one single piece of paper towel.

And then I grabbed a pen and began to write every single negative thought I could possibly think of. (Believe me, I wrote small.) Anything that I felt was holding me back from getting a new job. Things I felt were holding me back from attending a four-year universities. Reasons why I thought I shouldn't move to wherever it is I would want to move. All the obstacles that I could possibly think of in achieving my ultimate goal this year of owning a car.

I wrote it ALL down. Every single thing that I could think of that ever passed through the deepest cavities of my brain and tried to infest it with negativity.

There were tears. A lot of the words got blotched out. But they weren't meant to be read clearly - it was simply the act of writing them all down and trying to rid myself of all of the negativity in my life as much as I could.

The final act:

I walked into my bathroom, and stepped to the "Magnificent Negativity Disposal Machine" (otherwise known as the toilet) and dropped that paper towel right in there. (Now I know they say you shouldn't throw paper towel down there or you'll clog it, but it just so happens that I have a very very strong flusher!)

Then I pulled the latch and watched all the negative energy flush itself down the toilet bowl.

As I walked away, that "Devil" was cussing up a storm on my shoulder while the "Angel" was standing triumphantly. So I just 'flicked' the "Devil" away, and gave a 'pat' to my guardian "Angel".

Tonight is THE night....

2007-09-11T11:51:00.000-05:00

Ugh, I have a speech to give in Speech class tonight. It's the second one that I have done so far (this class is the accelerated class and is going sooo fast!) and I am not looking forward to it.

1. Because I just came up with the topic two minutes ago on my lunch break.

2. Because I also have a quiz on Ch. 10 in the same class tonight.

3. Because it's the last topic that I wanted to do a speech on but the only thing that could come to my mind.

The topic of the speech was "If I could go back in time for a day where, when would I go? Who would I see? Why? What would I take with me and what would I take back?"

Where would I go? I kept sitting there trying to think of some lame topic that would hopefully take me two minutes to come up with - but it seemed like the lame topics were taking me longer.

My mind kept dwindling back to the same thought and I guess that it was my heart, really, telling me what my topic should be: So... if I could go back in time for a day... I would go back to 1985 in Seoul, South Korea, somewhere in those farmlands, and find my birthparents right before I was born.

I would want to show them that I turned out okay. I would want to tell them that I think about them every day and that I wish that things had turned out differently that both them and my adoptive parents could be in my life.

I would want them to know that I graduated high school, that I have a good job, that I want to be in the medical field. I would want my mother to know that I don't hate her for the letter that she sent to America a few months after I left. I want her to know that I forgive them and that if anything, I thank them for not giving up on me, and letting me live so that I could have the life I have lived so far.

Gosh, I just know I am going to burst into tears in class tonight. Exactly what I didn't want to do.

Something Happy to Replace the Rant

2007-09-10T23:24:00.001-05:00

Okay, so I just realized that I rant a lot on this blog. Not all bad things happen.

Let's start with the fact that in the middle of the week, Paul oppa called me to just say hello. I asked him how his back was (the last time I had seen him was two weekends prior where he had coughed too hard and created blood clots in the side of his back. Hmph! I told him that he should stop smoking!). He said that his back was much better since he had gone to see the acupuncturist. He swears by those Asian doctors and always is telling me how Western medicine is crazy, and he doesn't trust it as much as he trusts Asian doctors. In a way, I cannot help to giggle whenever he mentions this because he reminds me of how ahjushi he is getting, despite his pleas that he is "super-Americanized".

He could tell something was wrong, and asked if I was feeling alright. He said my voice sounded sad. I told him what has been happening at work, and that I just came from vacation and felt sad that it was over. He asked me if I had called my sister, Yuri to see what she was doing this weekend, especially since Kuya 'Nard (now her boyfriend, hehehe) was away on business and D, L, & S were out in Miami. I told him that I hadn't talked to her since the last weekend when Nard, Yuri-unni and Paul oppa and his girlfriend (my future sister-in-law, Esther-unni) went to Ibiza and FIVE.

Five was craziness. I ran into so many people that I knew and Ibiza - AH!! All those lights! It was a blast.

Well anyway, Paul oppa said he would have to make some phone calls and he would call me back later that evening. Sure enough, while I was in class, Paul oppa called me and then text me and asked me if I would like to come and visit him and my sister this weekend and just hang out.

I said, of course I would.

Thursday night came and Gen gave me a call to tell me about Christian's dad. I was so sad to hear the news and I immediately called Christian to give my condolences. Gen and I talked for a little bit about his new puppy, DJ Elvis, and where everyone was.

The next night, I went to go check out this new apt with my crazy Aunt and my mom, but the rent was higher than what I am paying now, and it would need a lot of work so I passed.

I had this urge to go out and eat dinner, just to hang out with someone, and relax since it was a Friday night and I was still stressed over work. So I called Gen and we went out to Austin's Grill to have dinner and he brought DJ Elvis.

That beagle is soooo cute!!! I couldn't stop holding him, and kissing him. The dog is so cuddly and docile too. The kind that will just let you cradle him like a baby, and won't try to wriggle away. Gen said he likes Elvis because he's a chick-magnet. Heh, heh.

We ran into our friends Jesse, Alexis and Guy there. It was nice to see people I hadn't seen in a while. Although Gen and I noticed that must have been our sixth time in two months going and eating at Austin's Grill. We eat there all the time it seems like.

Afterwards, Gen drove me home, and the next morning I was on the train to Union Station. Because I am cheap, I caught the 7 AM train for $14.00 and landed in DC around 8. I decided to let Paul oppa sleep so I didn't call him until 10 AM and lied and told him I had just arrived just so he wouldn't worry about me.

He picked me up and we went to go get breakfast. A Korean seafood stew with rice, and broiled kimchi covered mackeral. Yum.

Then we went to go get some Starbucks and ran into Yuri unni there, who surprise, surprise - was talking on the phone with Nard.

We headed over to Su unni's house to keep her company and then she bailed on us and ran out to go on some errands. When she came back she had three pairs of Dolce & Gabana jeans...she said she paid $300 bucks for each...omgosh! They were the most adorable jeans I had ever seen. While she was gone, Paul oppa and I raided her kitchen, and started watching Korean TV. He was explaining to me some of the words I didn't understand, and then we got online and started messing around with YouTube. We are both so addicted to YouTube, it's not even funny.

We finally left Su unni's house once she got home to go grab some dinner. Again, Korean seafood stew with rice and broiled mackeral.

Then we headed over to Yuri unni's house. I love visiting my sister. We always have a ton of fun together, and since I have met her, and she's been hanging out with Nard more -her English or her confidence in her English has gotten so much better. We are able to have full conversations mixing Korean and English. We always watch Korean dramas or the Food network. Then we have fun getting ready to go to the club together. It's so awesome because she has become the older sister that I always wanted. Sharing clothes, shoes, make up tips. Sounds silly, but I never truly had a family like that.

Once we got to Ibiza, I don't know what is was but Gabriel & Dresden rocked. I danced my heart out. It felt so good to just let it all go, and I just let my feet fly. Towards the end of the night, I had so many people come up and compliment me on my dance skills - I was shocked! I guess because I have always been self conscious of what I look like when I dance because of my limp on my right foot - and I know that my dance moves don't look like I would want them to. But it felt good to be complimented so many times.

Alright, that's enough of that. Time for my ass to go to bed. Just needed to end on a happy note.

Old Post Meets New Post

2007-09-10T22:52:00.000-05:00

I found an old college essay that I used to get into San Francisco University.

There's always that fine line...

I spent an hour yesterday, sitting on the fence in the parking lot of McDonald's, holding up the cash from my wallet to see the fine line that goes down the vertical side of the bill. I realized that no one really cared about the line, some people I knew didn't even know it existed, and you couldn't really see it unless you strain your eyes and squint against the sun. That's how racial assimilation began for me. It was this little line that went vertically down my side, and just like on those bills, it was never quite centered, and would change with each new value.

Every year, my values change, call it the wonders of adolescence if you will, or simply - puberty, but they make a distinctive shift in their views, and their importance and perspective. One of the most inconstant values or perceptions I've held have been towards assimilation. My assimilation or rather, my backwards spiral from assimilation to form a new kind of American. I've strayed too far from my original point...you see, like the bill, like that fine line, for so long - since the beginnings of my childhood as a 'banana' or 'white-washed' Korean, that fine line was never seen. It was never sought for either. Because what good is the knowledge of assimilation to a kindergartener who is having difficulty distinguishing the difference between purple and violet, much less the much bigger picture of yellow vs. white, or race vs. race? The line was always there. I didn't begin it, my birthmother didn't begin it, and so on and so forth until we reach the very essence and depth of Asian ancestors. Maybe it doesn't even lay within the contexts of Asian Americans, but rather - Americans in general - from the time that violet became violet, and purple became purple - that is when the fine line was created.

And there it began to singe itself and embalm its symbolism in the small of my back, and soak underneath my skin like an astringent to make the color of my skin go from 'light tan' to 'yellow'. This was the birth of the line. That is how it came to be on the vertical side of my body.

As a young kid, petite, and the smallest of my class, it never occurred to point out that I was different from everyone else. That line was never burning to be seen. Neither were my parents eager to light the candle flame that would show through my transparent childhood years to show that fine line. Therefore, no one cared, no one dared to spend a moment's notice to search for the line, because it didn't seem like it mattered. My value was at about a dollar. But as time wore on, my value changed and rose. And it was only until recently that I sat back and took the time to notice the fine line that had grown more prominent.

What does the fine line stand for? I think it stands for my ability to assimilate from American to Korean culture. As the values have changed, so does the fine line's point, and it is constantly in a battle of moving back and forth, giving more of me into my American side, and then giving more of me into my Korean. It was not until recently that I discovered that, I am still growing, the change is less frequent, and that if I pay close attention, I might even see the fine line hit the middle.

-=PRESENT EDIT=-

It's nearly midnight right now. Just several minutes ago my eyes were giving into the heavy gravity of sleep. The opposite of the complete restlessness that I have been feeling most of these nights recently.

I haven't written in forever it seems like and I miss the ability to exert my frustrations into this blog. I haven't been in one place long enough to sit down and write out what is going on. I finally have time now, and have pushed sleep into the recesses of my mind in order to get out the recent frustrations and confusions that have been occupying my mind.

I find this tremendous solace whenever I get onto the train or the subway headed to DC or VA. Not particularly because of where I am headed (although I love my brother and sister with all of my heart, and enjoy every single minute I spend with them), but the actual moving and travelling is what excites me most. It's what awakens this energy within me, and this sort of peace of mind. I am lulled into a tranquil state of mind with the creaks and whisps of the wind pressing against the train's sides as we dip across stretches of railroads and underneath bridges and through tunnels. So it was only fitting that my cushioned seat pressed against the earliest Saturday morning train is where I found myself in order to escape last week's horrible and stressful craziness.

Let's start back at Tuesday. Something other than the fact that I had just come back from a long, and exciting, and relaxing vacation made it harder to get back to work. One, I had a whole week's worth to catch up with and of course, the week that I was gone was the week that I had a new loan, and two renewals and bunch of other issues that popped up. In addition, there was an audit that we were all preparing for, that most people had that week to start on while I was on vacation. The problem with that? I had chosen that week for the vacation time a looong time before the audit review was scheduled. I had no idea that it was going to be happening around the same time.

Not only that, but with everything that has been happening outside of work: my living situation, my car expenses that are coming up, this alopecia - have been forcing me to really stop and think about everything in my life, and what I have taken for granted and what I haven't really focused on too much: which is taking care of myself first and foremost, and not giving a fuck what other people think about me. A lot of people in my life had always been encouraging this kind of thinking, but I had continued to be a spaz, and worry about every little thing and what people thought.

Then, one Thursday morning, I woke to find my hair filling the tub to the brim, and my life changed in an instant. Sounds tremendously stupid, possibly almost silly if I think about it, but it's honest. I was suddenly faced with the challenge of re-evaluating my thought process about how I was going to keep living my life - what were the most important things to me? What were the things that I needed to start thinking about more than others? Why am I so self-conscious? What is this a sign for? Is it a sign for me to really stop and take the time to really see what is around me and appreciate everything in my life?

Yes, I've decided. Yes it is. And I have been happy in realizing how much love there is in my life. My friends that I have been blessed even through tragedy and dramatic times to have gotten to know and have kept through the years. Family that I never knew I had.

But how do you apply what you have learned in your personal life to the things in your professional? Or are you supposed to keep those completely separate? I have found that to be the hardest task of all: for me to go into work and not cry - not worry about my hair falling out and not to think about it 24-7 and instead worry about how Mr. & Mrs. Moneybags were going to get their advance in on time, or whether I would efficiently advance their loan funds so that they had their money for settlement that they didn't need anyway.

I was brought into my boss' office and told that it is because of my age, because I am so young, that I am not able to separate my personal and business issues. I find it hard to believe that it is just because I am 21 that I am unable to not worry about my shiny bald spots that are showing to the whole world - I am sure that at any age I would still be freaked out - I would still be upset, and I would still find it hard to focus on anything, much less Mr. & Mrs. Moneybags.

So last week I got reprimanded, and told that I am not working up to my "potential". I was cussed at, and I was underminded, and micromanaged (because she said "I feel I have to with you"). The way she speaks with me is completely different from anyone else in that office, and I know that it is because she is always self-conscious of the fact that I am younger than her, and she feels she has the right to demean me in that way. I am at the point where I don't give a shit, and have lost all enthusiasm for the job that I have. I don't find the importance in it anymore, especially with everything else going on in my life. I know that this is partially an extreme way to think - but I don't know how to correllate what is going on in my personal life with the professional... maybe it is my lack of experience. Maybe it is because I have never lost my hair before. Maybe it is because I know no one who ever has. Maybe it is because I am surrounded by people in my workforce who are unable to place themselves in someone else's shoes and still tell me on a daily basis, and also give me looks as I walk by that say, "you're making it all up, it's just because of stress and you need to get over it."

I know I am ranting right now. But I am so frustrated and unable to wrap my mind around this woman that I deal with day in and day out. I hope that something shows a light soon...some sort of path that I should take. In the meantime, I am on my hunt for a new job, and unfortunately, I have a feeling that I am going to have to take a paycut in order to find a new one. Ugh.

When it rains, it pours. Eh?

Feeling like a greasy side order of egg rolls...

2007-09-05T07:49:00.000-05:00

Yesterday was a B-I-T-C-H. Class ran over. Didn't get home till 11. Just stayed over my parents' house since my Mom refuses to drive in the dark, but ended up waking up late because I was sleeping on that damn couch again (from when I used to live there).

Tonight is lab and I have a feeling this class is going to go until 11 as well. Bah. I don't think I am cut out for this continuous lack of sleep/stress. But we'll see.

More later. When I don't have so much bloody work to do.